


I'll Bet Myself On You

by Raepocalypse



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Stray Kids Ensemble - Freeform, background ship 15&, background ship minsung, mentions of twice, the other ships are really really background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19294999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raepocalypse/pseuds/Raepocalypse
Summary: Decades ago, a promise was broken. The resulting war set the two neighboring countries at odds for generations to come. Until, finally, the generations grow tired of fighting a war for a broken promise. What better way to end the war, to help the people, than to fulfill the promise that was broken?Yugyeom isn't sure he wants to be the one to fulfill the promise, but he also isn't sure he really has a choice.[Updates currently sporadic]





	1. Power Play

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on this for uhhhhhhh. Since April. It's been a MINUTE. I was trying to finish the entire fic before i continued on but i really just. Idk i'm way way way too impatient. I hope yall enjoy this but if you don't, too bad here it is anyway. 
> 
> Title from No One Else by Got7
> 
> Also please appreciate that I spent several hours researching and doing math to get the travel times right only to completely disregard other historical things like allergy remedies because it suited me.

The story begins with the tragedy. One might think it would be the death of the king, but that is neither tragic nor the beginning. The story begins decades before, with young lovers. It should not have been a tragedy, because being in love and marrying someone you’ve given your heart to should be a joy, should be a celebration. When one is promised already - to a king-to-be, no less - tragedy follows soon after. 

She had no choice in the promise. It had been done for protection, for help. Their kingdom had little and the promise of the hand of their youngest was enough to sign the trade agreements. Years passed and the kingdom prospered, strong enough now to stand on it’s own feet. The promise had been made, though, and the feet it stood on were the result of years of a steady, guiding hand across the border. 

The king the promise had been made to passed away. The youngest was still too young, and the wound was still too fresh. There was a little time before she had to leave her home and her family. Only she never  _ did _ leave her home and her family. The king waited, and he waited, and he waited some more. The letters asking when his bride would be coming were met with longer and longer waits between replies. Finally, the last reply came. 

_ The princess has fallen in love with another. We ask humbly that you release her for her hand to go to the one she loves.  _

Humble or not, the king did not appreciate the request. He did not release her. He sent his troops to march on the castle to take back what was promised to him. The result was bloody. It was deadly. The princess’s marriage was tainted with it and the war began. It was a slight that would rage for sixty years to come. It bred a hatred between the kingdoms that brought battle after battle over any small slight. A snubbed invitation? Crossing the border? An overstep in trading with the other’s partner? It didn’t matter who started it, just that the other side was  _ wrong _ . 

The king died. His son took the throne. He marched on the border. The hatred continued. The opposing king died. His son rang in the coronation with a battle. 

The kings grew tired. 

Another king fell. 

The battles initiated by his side came to a halt. 

It was a period of peace neither side had known in decades. Battles were fought, but the land that had begun this, the jilted party, ended each fight with fewer and fewer lives lost. The soldiers went home and licked their wounds where they may not have come home at all before. The attacks increased in volume, but no retribution was offered. 

Another king died. His oldest son ascended to the throne. 

The death of the king was not a tragedy. Not for the family, necessarily. Not for the people. The young prince was not ready for his ascension, but is anyone ever? The kingdom was ready for a new leader. They needed one. They needed him. Compassionate and peaceful, uninterested in war, hoping to make changes for the better. His first meeting with the council was not so hopeful. 

“Wait, there’s a  _ famine _ ?”

Jackson’s hand rested on his back, trying to calm him even a little. He wasn’t an advisor technically, but Bambam needed him there to help him keep his cool, especially now. 

The older man pushed a piece of parchment across the large table. “Yes, your majesty. The war has been distracting the people from the blight on their fields while we try to figure out what to do. We don’t have enough to trade to get through the coming winter now, but if we march on the kingdom to the North-”

“We’re not marching on anything,” he replied vaguely, lost in thought. “That’s not how we do this anymore.”

The advisors went silent for a moment. “But, your majesty-”

He looked up, leveling the speaker with a flat gaze. “What are our options  _ besides _ bloodshed?”

He didn’t like the confusion or discomfort the question raised. They were all experienced, yes, but they were all experienced with his  _ father _ . He wasn’t going to be like his father. 

“Trade,” came the softest of voices. 

The advisors twisted, looking at the young man shunted to the side, sitting back from the table a little. His arms were folded loosely, hesitance in his eyes but not in the rest of him. “Now is not the time for this, Mark,” the one nearest him murmured. 

“It is time for this,” Bambam corrected. Mark had been sitting in with the advisors for meetings for only a few years now, previously a personal valet to Bambam’s brother. He’d been serving there for years and while the new king knew him well, the others at the table didn’t trust the man at all. Too young, too inexperienced, only with them because the  _ prince _ , the stepson of their king, had thrown a royal fit to get him there and out of his own hair. Being close to his brother, Bambam knew it wasn’t for his own benefit that he did it but for Mark’s, but people expected to see a spoiled prince, so that was the weapon he used to get his way.  “Mark?” Bambam prompted. 

Mark glanced around the room, looking at the people assembled, then at Bambam and Jackson at his back. “Trade,” he said again. “We aren’t destitute as a country, not yet. We have valuable resources, just not ones we can eat. Not everything has to be  _ taken _ . You can give and receive in turn.”

“With whom do you suggest we trade?” one of the advisors asked petulantly. “The late queen’s previous home  _ is _ destitute. Our nearest neighbor is the one who would have our heads. They would be  _ ecstatic _ to learn of our weakness.”

“When was the last time they acted on that weakness?” Mark shot back, his chin lifting in defiance. “They have a new king and so do we. We don’t  _ have _ to continue to fight. This war can come to an end and we can start making amends with trade agreements.”

The silence that filled the room was heavy. The part of Bambam that was His Majesty, King  Kunpimook Bhuwakul balked at the idea. They hated the Park line. The Park line hated them. It didn’t make  _ sense _ to try and trade with them, and if they did, wouldn’t they just give them dirt and take everything they had? Why wouldn’t they? They held  _ all _ of the cards here. 

But because they held all of the cards, what choices was he left with? 

“This meeting is over,” he said finally, rubbing his brow with a ringed hand. “I need to think.”

“Your majesty, you can’t-”

“Do not tell him what he can and cannot do,” Jackson interrupted, not quite gently. Thank god for Jackson. He’d been a servant, then Bambam’s personal valet, now his personal guard and confidant. He could be counted on to protect him from both outside threats as well as annoying, internal ones. “The meeting is over. You are all dismissed.”

When the counselor opened his mouth again, he was met with a deadpan stare and drew back. Huffing and puffing his indignation, he stood and swept out of the room. 

It took a few moments. It would have been faster for Bambam to leave the room and seek solitude somewhere else, but he was the king and this was his council room, his advisors to tell to leave, his table to try to avoid war at. Finally, he and Jackson were the only ones left. Mark had taken a moment, giving him a look like he wanted to speak again, but he said nothing as he ducked out. 

“What are you thinking?” Jackson asked, taking the chair to his right. His right hand. He always had been. 

“I’m thinking my options are to eat my pride or not eat at all,” he mumbled. 

“It’s not your pride,” he reminded him. “It’s your father’s father’s pride. This war has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

He shot the man a look. “Of course I do, that’s why I’m trying to end the bloodshed here. I don’t want my first act from the throne to be sending soldiers out to steal and kill and die for a marriage where both parties are dead now.”

Jackson nodded and reached over, taking his hand and holding tightly. They could only do that in secret, in the quiet and behind closed doors. He gripped the hand back just as hard. “You’ll do what’s right. We both know you will. You’re going to be a great king, Bambam.”

In the end, the decision was all but taken out of his hands by the only person who had ever successfully taken anything out of his hands. Or from him at all. 

“But  _ why _ can’t we trade with them?” Yugyeom asked over dinner, the pair of them sitting on his bed and munching on snacks. It was tradition since they were younger. It was how they worked things out. With a whole council of advisors, he didn’t think he would trust anyone as much as he trusted his brother. 

“They’ll fuck us,” Bambam replied easily, dunking the bread into the spicy sauce he liked and Yugyeom hated. “We’ll send diamonds and they’ll send three bags of flour and a sick pig.”

Yugyeom stared at him for a moment. “Three bags of flour will feed a family. Who will the diamonds feed?”

“I know.”

“They can have my diamonds.”

“I know.”

Yugyeom chewed at his lip, then sat up and rearranged himself on the bed. They weren’t supposed to eat in here, but he was king now and he could eat wherever he wanted. Maybe he was going a little power drunk, but all of his power-drunk decisions were confined to not being told what to do rather than trying to take over the world, so Bambam figured he was still doing okay. 

The younger of them took a deep breath and held his hand out. Bambam took it without hesitation. There was a time, when he had first come to the castle, that he would have slapped it away. That was a long time ago, though. They’d gone from grudging step brothers, to friends, to best friends, to real brothers. It didn’t matter who their parents were, hadn’t for years now. 

“I’ll go with you,” Yugyeom said seriously. 

“Go with me where?” he asked, brow raised. 

“To the Park Castle,” he replied, as though this was obvious. As though he even had a choice. “I’ll go with you. You’ll have me and Jackson and a whole host of guards. We can take Mark, too, since it was his idea. You’re the king now, and you’re going to be a great king, but no kingdom is just one man. You’ve got us, and we aren’t going anywhere. We love you. Okay? You’re the most loved king here in a century.”

“Just because of you and Jackson?”

He nodded, too-long bangs flopping into his eyes. “Yes. Because we love you so much, and a little bit because your family sucks.”

That got him laughing and it was what he needed. 

The problem wasn’t solved, but it was getting there. It had a solution. He just had to work through the steps. 

\--

The council of advisors was not happy when Bambam told them of his plan. Jackson stood at his side, looking lethal. Yugyeom was sat at the table, looking restless. Mark was beside him, a little further from the table than before, like he couldn’t be fit there. 

“If anyone has objections,” Bambam said carefully, “you are free to give them to Prince Yugyeom.”

The opened mouths closed, anger turning to confusion. Since Yugyeom was never involved in any political or diplomatic discussions, it was an odd offer. 

“I’ve decided to head the trade agreements,” he informed them. ‘Decided’ was one way to put it. Really, they’d discussed who would be the best for the job and came up only with Mark, which would be met with pushback from the council. Yugyeom was still close to Mark, would always be close to Mark, and had played the spoiled prince enough with this council that they wouldn’t question - or be able to question - his demand to be involved. By putting him with Mark, they had a better chance of getting things done and of the council steering clear. “If you have suggestions or complaints, I will handle them.”

“Is his highness… learned? In trade and diplomacy?” An older man asked carefully. He wanted to object, but wasn’t sure how. It was clear in his tone and the delicacy of his question. 

“I haven’t done it before, but have any of you?” Yugyeom asked. He certainly had a way with making people older than him look stupid. When no one answered, he nodded. “Right, because my step father rarely negotiated trade, and most of what we had before were spoils of war. Who negotiated the trades before that? Do any of you remember?”

More silence. Finally, Mark’s soft voice again, barely containing a smile. “The queen.”

“My mother?” Yugyeom pretended to be surprised. “Well, since she actually had little knowledge of it before we came here and did just fine, I should be able to do just fine too. Besides, Mark will help me.”

“Me, your highness?” The man asked, brows raised. Murmurs rippled around the table. 

Yugyeom nodded. “Since you’re the only one willing to think of trade, you’re the only one qualified to talk about trade.” He smiled at the table as a whole, somehow looking both innocent and challenging, ready for further arguments. When there were none, he looked to the head of the table again. “Brother?”

The advisors turned his way again. He watched the confidence and bluster drop from Yugyeom’s shoulders in relief. He would have to pay him back later with the chocolate drink he liked so much. Harder to come by, but a good reward for a battle hard won. 

Bambam’s hands splayed out on the table. “Yugyeom and Mark will work together on what we have to offer for trade, but there’s more to it than just making an offering. First and foremost, we’ll need to send someone ahead to the Park’s castle, make sure they’re willing to speak with us at all. I’m confident they will be, given how long it’s been since their last returned attack on us, but we’ll still need to find someone who’s willing to take the chance to not come back to deliver the letter. Just in case.” 

The request tasted like the word  _ expendable _ in his mouth, on his tongue, and he hated it. There was little else he could do about it, though. This would be their first contact with the other kingdom aside from declarations of war in over half a century. 

He didn’t know why he expected the person they chose to be someone he knew, maybe just because of the dread, but in a matter of days, a young woman was brought before him. Bambam didn’t recognize her face. He didn’t recognize her name. He did recognize the look of firm determination in her eyes when she came before the throne and took a knee. 

Jihyo was too cute a name for someone he could be sending to his death.  _ Park Jihyo _ was worse, if only because she shared a name with the leader she was seeking asylum with. It would haunt him until she came home. She was his age and Bambam didn’t know if that meant to him that he thought she was too young to die or if he thought it meant he himself was too young to be on the throne, holding lives in his hands like toys. 

The agreement was that if Jihyo made it there and back with the message, no matter what it was, she and her family would receive a stipend of enough to care for them for the coming years. She would be made courier to the court, given a stable job and a home there. If she didn’t return, her family would receive the stipend anyway, twice over to make up for the loss of their daughter and the income. Bambam hated that he felt like he was buying a person’s life. He didn’t have another choice. 

The travel to the Park castle should, in theory, take nine days alone on horseback. The return trip would take nine days similarly. Jihyo would be given one month to return home before another courier was sent after her in a second attempt at trade and to try to find her. Bambam had no plan for  _ who _ the second courier would be, and he didn’t want to have to find out if he could help it. 

The days that led up to finding the girl were stressful. The week leading up to sending her out were a nightmare. Bambam hadn’t seen Yugyeom or Mark for more than a moment the entire time, the pair of them pouring over papers and books with a team of academics. He had peeked in once to see his brother with his crown off and on the table, gripping his hair tightly and staring at a piece of paper like he didn’t speak the language. Someone was explaining something to him, something about the amount of food it took for one person to eat compared to the most recent census numbers. He looked dead on his feet. He still had the month leading up to Jihyo’s return to have the proposals done, but there was little time to spare anyway. There were too many calculations to be done in the meantime. When Jihyo finally left, she took the hope that was in the castle with her and left the rest of them an anxious mess. 

\--

Twenty five days passed. At eighteen, the castle started to grow anxious, but there was nothing to worry about yet. It took time to travel. She would have needed to rest now and then. At twenty, a restlessness started to settle in their bones. At twenty three, Bambam could be found most often in his private study, pacing a hole in the floor with Jackson trying to coax him into relaxing. It didn’t work. All he could think of was that his first act as king would be a disappointment to his people as well as the end of one young woman’s life. 

Then, like a miracle, she appeared in the door again, all long hair and sun warm skin and brilliant smiles. Bambam wanted to hug her, but he had been told once already that it was not appropriate for a king to hug his subjects. At least not in the throne room. 

He did, however, shoot to his feet, nearly bowling over the advisor who was trying to tell him something about dinner or festivals or  _ something _ unimportant. 

“Jihyo!” he called out, as though he didn’t have a person specifically meant to announce people to him. The gentle touch on his wrist from Jackson reigned his self control in enough to keep him from sprinting across the hall anyway. “What news?”

“Good,” she said, looking windswept and tired and yet still beaming. She held out a letter, but went on anyway. “The king is amenable to speaking with the court. I didn’t run into trouble along the way, he invited me to stay two nights to rest, offered food for the trip back. He was… kind. I didn’t expect him to be kind.”

“Thank god,” Bambam mumbled, dropping into his throne again to break the wax seal on the letter. “Jihyo, please go rest. We’ll talk more when you’ve been home for a while, hm?”

_ To The Court of His Majesty, King Kunpimook Bhuwakul _

_ We trust that this letter finds you well. After considering your proposal of trade, the kingdom finds itself interested. Decades of war have left us both distrustful, but under the guiding hand of the new generation we hope to bring about an era of peace and prosperity. Would that this peace and prosperity stretched across borders to both of our lands.  _

_The travel to our court will take some time, but we look forward to the meeting that will come of it. Our conditions for this meeting are as follows:_ __  
_His Majesty The King is to be present_ __  
_The trade proposals of what will be offered and what is needed are made readily available_ _  
_ __A company of no more than fifteen travels with the court to the castle.

_ We understand the threat to the king is high, but with the bloody past from which we rise, it is necessary to put our faith in one another. Our faith is in you in inviting you to our home. Your faith must be in us as well. If His Majesty requires more protection on the journey from the border, a guard company will be sent to escort the court and his men for the remainder of the trip.  _

_ If these terms are amenable, negotiations may begin post haste. We will expect your arrival in one month’s time. If these terms are not amenable, or if further guard is to be required, we would welcome another messenger as guest.  _

_ Yours Faithfully, _

_ The Court Of His Majesty Park Jinyoung _

To make it to the castle in thirty days, one month’s time, they had to leave in ten days. Bambam had never traveled with a deadline, had never been given a deadline at all really. The castle exploded into activity as soon as the meaning of the letter sank in. Things had to be prepared for him to leave. The proposals had to be finished. Clothes and food had to be packed. Fifteen men had to be chosen. Another messenger had to be sent because, as Jackson helpfully pointed out, there was no reason to tempt thieves with an easy target, no matter what side of the border they were on. 

All of that paled in comparison to the fight that came from Yugyeom. 

He approached him in the study, storming up to the desk and slamming a hand down on it. Luckily for him, he was Bam’s best friend as well as his brother, because he could have had him killed for the way he was acting already. 

“I said I would go with you,” Yugyeom snapped. 

“I know you did, but someone has to stay behind in case something happens,” Bambam replied. He didn’t sound desperate, because kings do not sound desperate. He sounded… dignified. Because that’s how kings sound. 

“I’m not even next in line!” he all but shouted back. “Bammie, you can’t just leave me here!”

“You’re the oldest one here of royal blood if I leave-”

“I’m a  _ stepchild _ , I’m not even royal to this kingdom.” 

The fierce look that took over Bambam’s features halted him, but didn’t make him back down. “You’re my brother,” he hissed. 

“I’m your brother, but by law, the crown would have to go to someone of your family line after you. Your uncle is next, and he’ll be here, so I’m going with you.” He settled a flat look on the man across the desk. 

For a moment, they stared at one another, then the king tried a new tactic. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re going,” Yugyeom replied. 

“I’m only allowed 15 people to come with me. I can’t afford for one of those to be you.”

His brows raised. “So now I’m a burden?”

Shit. “No, no, you’re not, it’s just that I need people who can protect the convoy and negotiate the trades with me.-”

“Oh, you need someone to negotiate the trades with you?” Yugyeom asked, his voice rising in volume as well as pitch. “You need someone who knows them, someone who spent the last  _ month _ working on the trade proposals, who knows what we need and what we can spare? You need someone like  _ that _ , O Great and Mighty King?”

His teeth clenched. He’d backed himself into a corner. He could force him to stay, he had that power, but he was drained and scared and as much as he was afraid for Yugyeom to come along and get hurt, the idea of leaving him behind to be angry at him for the next two months or longer was far worse. He wanted him to stay, to run the kingdom while he was gone, but it wasn’t feasible. He was right. He and Mark wrote those proposals, spent the days and nights studying them. He couldn’t leave them behind and still come back successful. 

In the end, his uncle was left in charge as the convoy left on the nineteen day journey out of their country. 

***

In short, the trip was a nightmare. Bambam had been lying about the number of men he was allowed. It was a company, specifically, of fifteen, not fifteen total. That made it a little less nerve-wracking, but not by much. At the border, when they had to leave most of their men behind and be picked up by a new security detail, Yugyeom dismounted from the horse he’d spent several days riding out in the sunshine and hid in the carriage with his brother. Every once in a while, he peeked out of the window at the guards, at the passing towns and roads and villages, at the fields that were fuller than anything they passed near the castle. 

He hated the stuffy carriage. He hated being locked in there. It was alright to be locked in with Bambam, but his cats were in the carriage, which made it hard to stay inside with him. After only a few hours, he had to escape and ride the horse again. Still, he stuck close to the carriage while Mark rode on the other side of him and talked now and again. He liked Mark, had always liked Mark, but when he spoke to him now, he could only think of long nights pouring over documents by dim candlelight and numbers and censuses and the amount of food they would need to get through the seasons. He swapped out now and then with Jackson, which was also helpful, but all Yugyeom could think of at all were the trades and it didn’t make for good conversation.

It took eight days to get to the castle from the border. By that time, Yugyeom had learned that he didn’t much like soldiers of any kind. He hadn’t known the ones from their army, but he didn’t really like them. They were loud and rude and didn’t speak to him at all. At least he had been comfortable with them. Past the border, they left most of them behind and the fifteen escorts stuck close to the carriage and Yugyeom, but not so close he couldn’t overhear their other guards. Just as loud, just as rude, ignored him just as much. 

(Maybe he was too shy to interject into conversations with any of them, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that.)

They arrived at the castle exactly on time, midday on the eighth day from the border, the nineteenth day of their trip, the thirtieth day since they received word back. Yugyeom had been shoved back into the carriage after they’d left the most recent place to stop and rest and clean up, which would have been fine except for the  _ cats _ . What was the point of cleaning up if he just wound up with a cat in his lap, making him look a mess all over again? 

The carriage rattled to a stop. Jackson patted Bambam’s shoulder, wishing him luck, and then the doors opened to the fanfare of being announced. He stepped out, followed closely by Jackson. A head poked in, looking for Yugyeom and he had to hold back a groan as he forced himself to get up and join them. 

The lights outside were bright and he had tried hard to make himself look nice for the meeting of the royal family this morning, but the cat dander had made his eyes red and puffy, stopped up his nose and made his body ache. No amount of make up or rich fabric could hide that. 

They were led up the stairs, Yugyeom rubbing at his red eyes, and they stopped before the throne. On it sat a man who was staring at the group of them with an unreadable look on his face, a crown of gold much like Bambam’s atop his head. To his right stood a man with a sword at his side and a hard expression. To his left was one who looked much kinder, a little curious. When the king’s eyes landed on Yugyeom, he looked down quickly and fought the urge to rub his eyes. 

“Welcome,” he said finally. “I trust your journey went well?”

“No troubles,” Bambam assured him. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home.”

He inclined his head, then gestured to his right, then his left. “This is my master of the guard, Jaebeom, and my first advisor, Youngjae. Youngjae will be with you for most of your time here. He’ll be happy to help with anything you need.”

Bambam thanked him quickly then cleared his throat. Yugyeom suddenly felt like there were too many of them, but he banished the thought quickly. All they had they had brought with them, Jinyoung had a kingdom surrounding him. “Ah, this is Yugyeom, my brother, and Mark, my advisor. They worked on the trades together. This is Jackson, my personal guard.”

Yugyeom chanced a look up at the king again and found his eyes on him. He turned away again quickly, failing his attempt to not rub his itching eyes. 

“Prince,” the king greeted, voice soft. 

“Your majesty,” he replied, bowing just a little 

A beat of silence took the room, almost awkward. Then, “Youngjae will lead you to your rooms for the time being. You’ve had a long trip and I’m not so demanding as to think we’ll start working on trades before you rest and have a meal. Will you join me for dinner this evening, your majesty?”

Bambam nodded quickly. “That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

Youngjae took them to the suite of rooms meant for guests of the court. There were more than enough for all of them, but as expected, Jackson took up with Bambam under the guise of being his guard. Yugyeom looked at Mark, who looked back at him and then sighed with a smile. “Am I your guard now?” he asked, in that soft voice. 

“You know I don’t like sleeping alone,” he mumbled. Youngjae had gone with the king, going over how long they would need to rest before dinner could be served and if there was anything they particularly wanted or didn’t want. 

Mark sighed again, but with a bigger smile now. He moved to sit on the bed, giving Yugyeom a look. “I thought you didn’t want me in your bed anymore now that I’m on the council.”

He looked down. Childish. He knew it was unfair, but he’d had a personal night guard for years, whose sole purpose was to keep him company while he slept and made sure he didn’t get lonely. Mark had been that companion when they were young, but then he’d expressed interest in the council. If he was still sharing a bed with the prince, they would never take him seriously and that would be hard enough as it was. He’d found someone new, but he hadn’t asked Nayeon to come. He’d been worried about the fifteen men thing. 

A laugh rang through and Mark nudged him with a shoe. “So long as I don’t get in trouble, that’s fine. I’ll stay with you.”

It wasn’t much but it was enough to pull some of the weight from Yugyeom’s shoulders. He shrugged off his fine jacket and draped it over the back of a chair to sit beside Mark on the bed. “Want to take a nap with me?”

He groaned, stretching out and letting himself fall back onto the mattress. “Sure. It’ll be good practice for when you take up the whole bed later.”

Yugyeom smacked a hand flat across his stomach. “I will  _ not _ take up the whole bed.”

“You’re the worst prince, you know that? Aren’t you supposed to be spoiled and proper and stuff?”

Yugyeom hummed, crawling onto the bed properly and climbing into the sheets without bothering to finish changing. He hadn’t slept on something soft and warm in weeks. “Well, an advisor is supposed to treat me like an eggshell, so you must be pretty bad at that too. Now sleep.”

Mark shook his head, crawling into the bed as well and curling up to sleep. 

When they woke, it was to Jackson grabbing the blanket that was over them and shaking it violently. Yugyeom whined and curled up tighter, pulling the pillow over his head. Mark sat bolt upright, getting hit in the face instantly with the waving blanket. 

“Get up, it’s time for dinner,” Jackson told them, letting it fall again. 

“You couldn’t wake us a little gentler?” Mark grumbled. “He’s a prince.”

“You were cuddled up to him, so I feel like you’ve got the hang of how to not treat him like one. And be more careful, will you? We don’t need a scandal on top of everything else.”

Yugyeom whined, rolling over and finally sitting up. His eyes still felt like sandpaper, his face puffy and aching. “You  _ know _ I can’t sleep on my own.” The way his voice scraped out of him made both of the men wince and he curled in on himself.

Jackson stood at the end of the bed, watching the pair of them grumble and whine and rub the sleep from their eyes. “This is adorable and all, but both of you need to get into something nicer for dinner. His majesty has sent a couple of servants up to give us a hand changing and all. Mark, get back to your room and change. Yugyeom, I’ll send someone in to give you a hand getting dressed and doing something about your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” he asked, alarmed. 

“Everything,” Bambam answered, peeking in. He grinned at the aghast look on Yugyeom’s face. “No, but really, you’re all puffy and red from sleeping and the cats. Just let someone help you? Jackson, I need you.”

Jackson started for the door, turning as he went. “You can wash up and go back to sleep after dinner. Just make it through one meal and then in the morning we’ll get down to business, alright?”

Yugyeom groaned again, letting himself flop back onto the mattress and rubbing at his eyes again as Mark left. Sometime when they were asleep, their luggage had been brought up and put away, which meant someone had come in while he was asleep. Hopefully, whoever it was didn’t start a rumor and therefore a scandal. He didn’t think he could take the stress right now. 

A gentle knock on the door woke him up just a little. A man entering woke him up a little more. “Your highness,” he said softly, with a slight bow and a small smile. “We’ve come to help you prepare for dinner?”

He felt like a complete troll, but his head was too full of cotton to stand up at the moment. His chest was tight when he tried to breathe deeply. He hoped he wasn’t getting sick and that it was just the cats, but his skin was too small for his body and it itched horribly. “Thank you,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes again. “Were you the ones who came in while we- Um. While I was- I mean, earlier. Just. Was that you?”

He nodded, another young man stepping in behind him. “Yes, your highness. My name is Seungmin, this is Hyunjin. We’ll be your valets while you’re staying with us at the castle, if that’s acceptable with you.”

Yugyeom studied them for a moment, trying to gauge how much trouble they would be for him. Namely, how much they were planning to report back to their master, whoever that was. Evidently, he was quiet for too long, because it made Hyunjin shift nervously and look to his counterpart and Seungmin’s mouth pinched the barest bit. “If his Highness would prefer… other accommodations-”

“No,” Yugyeom interrupted, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, I’m just- We don’t travel often without our same staff and it’s… weird. I’m not rejecting you, it’s just- This is- This is hard.”

The pair of them stood there for a moment longer before Hyunjin spoke up. “Anything his highness needs, we will make sure it’s done. His Majesty the King has made it clear that these negotiations are extremely important and our guests are to be treated as we treat him.”

“Please don’t treat me like a king,” Yugyeom said quickly, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t really- It makes me feel weird. I really hate it. Just- Just don’t… I’m not trying to imply you’re  _ spies _ , it’s just…” 

He knew the moment it sunk in what the problem was and Hyunjin’s eyes widened, Seungmin’s brows lifting high on his forehead. “Your highness,” Seungmin started slowly. “Unless you’re plotting to hurt someone or you  _ are _ hurting someone, we aren’t beholden to offer any information. The personal lives of our guests are not relevant to the trade agreements between our country and yours any more than His Majesty’s.”

Yugyeom groaned, dropping backward onto the mattress. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Sorry. Can you stop calling me Your Highness and His Highness? It’s really impersonal and I know we aren’t going to be here long, but it’s gonna make me feel like I’m not a real person.”

“What should we call you, then?” Seungmin asked, sounding politely curious as they started to move around the room. 

“My name is Yugyeom,” he replied, sitting up. That was too familiar for servants, though, and he had learned the hard way that it was important to draw a line. Not necessarily for himself, but because they could get caught and his mother was always adamant that if he got someone in trouble, he had to get them out of it. He didn’t know how to get anyone out of trouble here, although it was easy back home. “You could call me Prince Yugyeom. Or just Prince. It’s better than His Highness. I’m my own highness.”

One of them giggled and Yugyeom sat up in time to see Hyunjin hiding a laugh behind his hand, Seungmin smiling as well. At least they were friendly. 

“Well, then, Prince, do you have a preference for your attire for dinner tonight? We unpacked your things while you were asleep so they could air out a little.” In his hands, Hyunjin had a pair of coats, trousers hung over his arm. 

The thought of wearing anything as constricting as formal clothes made his skin crawl. The good humor brought on by good company soured when he remembered he was about to have to put on court face and act like a human. “I don’t think it matters. I know I look awful right now - I  _ feel _ awful.” 

Neither of them replied for a moment and when he looked up, Seungmin was staring back at him while Hyunjin watched him. Carefully, he said, “By any chance, have you been near animals lately?”

Yugyeom frowned. “My brother brought his cats. They were in his carriage with him and I had to stay in it too over the last leg of the trip. I’m allergic.”

The servants shared a look and then Seungmin started toward the door while Hyunjin put the clothes away again. “We can have something sent up. Seungmin will talk to your master of the guard and His Majesty’s to make sure it’s okay, but it might be best if you rest for a while longer. Tomorrow will be a big day and you’ll want your wits about you.”

“I can’t just miss this,” he protested, frowning tighter. Even if his head did still feel like it was stuffed and padded and heavy. “This is a terrible first impression.”

“A better first impression than coming to dinner addled and being sick in the morning when you have to work,” Hyunjin told him gently. They’d gone from being careful and a little timid to downright bossy at a speed Yugyeom couldn’t keep up with. Or maybe it was just because he was feeling so off-kilter. 

Not quite touching him, Hyunjin eased him back down onto the bed. “Our court has some similar problems. There’s something that the General and his husband both take regularly for one another’s pets and something they take when it gets bad too. Seungmin and I will make sure that gets brought up with your dinner. Go back to sleep, your highness.”

“I said you could call me Prince Yugyeom,” he protested, although getting back down onto the pillow made his heavy head seem somehow heavier. 

“Of course,” Hyunjin agreed, tucking the blanket up around him again. 

It was a testament to how unwell he felt that sleep washed over him as easily as it did, even in an empty bed and a quiet room. Maybe the presence of the valet had helped, but he couldn’t say for certain. 

When Yugyeom woke up again properly, it was dark and he could hear someone else in the room. 

“Hello?” he asked, sitting up. Something fell from his face onto his lap and he looked down at the cold, damp rag that had been sitting on his skin. 

“Good morning,” the man said with a smile. He reached over to scoop up the rag and dunk it into a basin, wring it out, then apply it to Yugyeom’s eyes again. “How are you feeling?”

Blind now, and confused, Yugyeom let himself be pressed back down onto the bed again. “Better? A lot better. How long was I asleep?” His voice came out less scratchy than before, less like the rasp it had been in the afternoon. 

“Another few hours,” he dismissed. “Dinner has come and gone. Can you eat?”

He hummed a little. “Not while I’m wearing a blindfold.”

The man laughed a little. The sound of steps on the stone. The door. A muffled request for dinner to be brought up for the prince now that he’s feeling a little better. When he came back, the cloth was removed and Yugyeom blinked into the dim light of the room. The man smiled again, looking soft and gentle, reminding him a little of the teddy bears he still has at home. “Evening, your highness. I’m Woojin.”

“Woojin,” he nodded. “I feel… a  _ lot _ better. Thank you. Are you a doctor?”

“No,” he replied, dabbing the warm cloth along Yugyeom’s face. “I’m among his majesty’s advisors, but I have the most experience with helping with allergies. Everyone here seems to have them. I’m glad you’re feeling better. The food will help some.”

He felt less puffy now, his face calmer and eyes less itchy. He still appreciated the attention. He may not be as spoiled as people expected, but he was still a prince. Spoiling now and again was nice. “Was the king angry I missed dinner?”

“Which king?” Woojin asked dryly. “ _ My _ king was fairly understanding. He’s allergic to cats as well, as is his first advisor, and the master of the guard is allergic to dogs. It was imperative that we figure out a way to work around those things, since the General keeps adopting stray cats and his husband came with a dog.”

“Why doesn’t the king just tell them to get rid of them?” he asked, sitting up some at a knock on the door. It opened and a tray was brought in with a bowl of soup and a plate of bread. 

Woojin helped him settle the tray on his lap and as the other servant left, he took a seat at the end of the bed again. “They’re close. He would never.”

Yugyeom hummed lightly, but tucked into the food instead of replying properly. Now that he was awake, he was starving and the food was warm and hearty. Woojin sat in silence while he ate, waiting for him to finish. It might have been awkward, but it was nice to just be with someone and not have the demands of conversation laid on him. When he finished, Woojin took the tray again and placed it outside the door, returning to give Yugyeom’s face a critical look. “You’re looking much better. Do you think you can sleep more? Or will that be too hard after you rested the day?”

He didn’t want to sleep. He was keyed up now. He knew he should, they had a big day tomorrow, but he didn’t think he would be able to. His hesitation must have been answer enough, because Woojin nodded and took a seat at the end of the bed again. “Do you play cards?”

“Cards?”

“Cards.” He tugged a pack out of his pocket and untied the cord holding them secure. Deft hands shuffled them. “What games do you know?”

Yugyeom grinned and sat up a little more, pleased to pass the time with something easy rather than sitting alone in the dark. 

Unfortunately, once he was tired, Woojin left, which left Yugyeom alone in the room, in the darkness that was cut only by the moonlight in the window. The bed was cold and empty, too big, and the space between the walls felt crushing and too open. In his room at home, Yugyeom didn’t sleep well without company. In this strange place, alone, he didn’t stand a chance. 

Carefully, he slid his feet into the soft slippers that would protect him from the cold of the stone and crept across the room to the hallway. It was dark and quiet in the hallway, oppressive and crushing. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, he wasn’t a complete child, and it was pitch black in the hallway. The brazier that lit it, though, was far from his room, and he thought he could see something move, and he thought he  _ heard _ something. Tired and unnerved, he closed the door again, hurrying back to the bed. 

A tap on the door made his heart jolt in his chest. Another tap had him pulling the blanket up. He was being childish,  _ stupid _ . Should he call for a guard? Would Jackson hear him if he screamed? 

Another tap. The door creaked open. He drew in a breath to shout, but then the figure in the doorway poked it’s pale face into the room and brought a light with it. 

“Your highness?” he asked, curly hair flopping into his face. “Woojin said you were feeling tired. That was a while ago. Is everything alright?”

The guard. Fuck. Of course there were guards in this part of the castle, there had to be. There were strangers from a nation that was an enemy such a short time ago. There must be their own guards around too, but he didn’t know this one. Truthfully, he somewhat preferred the friendly-faced stranger to the men he knew and didn’t like from the trip here. 

“I’m okay,” he replied quietly, hating how small his voice sounded. 

The guard shuffled, metal clinking before he slipped into the room and moved closer. “Can I help? Do you need something? Would you feel more comfortable with a guard of your own at your door?”

He shook his head, then hesitated. “Mark- I don’t know where Mark is. The advisor we brought. I don’t know which room he’s in, but can you- Can you ask if he’ll come in here?”

He gave a quick nod, turning to the door and hurrying out. Yugyeom barely had time to regret not catching his name before Mark was slipping in with groggy eyes. 

“Gyeomie?” he asked, closing the door behind him. “Can’t sleep?”

“No. Can you stay with me?” 

The man hummed softly and crawled into the bed with him. In seconds, he was asleep again, one arm wrapped around the prince and dead to the world. Yugyeom finally relaxed some and tried not to think about the fact that there was now  _ another _ person in the castle who knew he shared a bed with Mark. 

When morning came, Yugyeom was still groggy, but he was rested enough to know when Mark shuffled out of the bed that he needed to get up. The valets from the day before were already in, saying nothing of Mark being in his bed again, and already pulling clothes for him to choose from for the day. What he chose was simple, because it was usually simple from him. Dark colors and soft fabrics, loose enough to move on the top, tight enough to not get in the way on the bottom. Maybe he wouldn’t be moving in these negotiations much, he'd always preferred tight trousers and flowy shirts under his jackets. 

He didn’t need to stop and make up his face, the valets assured him he didn’t need to, but he still took a seat at the vanity in the room with the polished glass mirror and started to apply it. “It’s like my war paint,” he said softly, lining his eyes in just enough black to pull attention to them. “It’s like… confidence, you know?” A layer of it on his skin, something he could feel and hide behind. 

The valets both shifted at the word war, noticeably uncomfortable. He turned quickly. “Not war. It’s a figure of speech. None of us want war anymore, we just… I’ve never done negotiations before. Our  _ kingdom _ hasn’t done negotiations like this since my mother died.”

Hyunjin moved forward, then halted, like he was thinking better of it. If he had been about to offer a comforting hand, Yugyeom wished he had gone through with it. Instead, he said, “This is something good for all of us. I think it will go well. I don’t know a lot about it either, of course, I don’t know anything, but I know that it’s something everyone wants. You will do okay, your highness.” 

Yugyeom took a deep breath and nodded. Still, he turned back to finish putting the barest bit of tint on his lips and slip in modest earrings before he stood. “Do I look alright?” he asked. 

Seungmin nodded, offering a small smile. Hyunjin moved forward and arranged his hair a little before stepping back and giving him a concise nod. The valets moved to start cleaning the room. Yugyeom stepped out into the hallway where Jackson stood waiting already. 

“Feeling better?” he asked, looking him over critically. “You’re not as puffy as last night.”

He nodded, fidgeting with the edge of the coat. “I am, thanks. Where are Bam and Mark?”

“Here,” Mark said, stepping out and looking Yugyeom over. “You look nice. You look like you’re feeling better. Ready to work?”

He nodded again, although it was a lie now. He didn’t feel ready necessarily. 

Jackson gave a curt nod. “Good, then we’ll have breakfast and meet with His Majesty and the advisors. As soon as  _ His Majesty _ is done in there.” He ended on a shout, giving the door behind him a thump with his fist. 

Finally, it opened and Bambam looked around at the three of them before sighing deeply. “Why don’t any of you know how to dress?” he asked, shaking his head. 

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I dress,” Yugyeom protested, trailing behind him as they started to walk. Bambam’s heeled shoes clicked along the stone as they met a guard at the end of the corridor and followed him further in. The king turned to look at him skeptically and he sniped, “Well, someone’s already wearing enough diamonds to represent the whole kingdom anyway, and is that  _ sewn in gold _ ?”

“I’m representing what we have available for trade,” he sniffed. 

“You’re representing that you’re full of sh-”

A jab to his side cut him off and he turned to look at Jackson. “That’s the king,” he hissed. “And we are not in our home castle. Can you act like you’re royalty and know how to treat a monarch please?”

He frowned, but conceded to Bam winning this one. They would rehash it later anyway - they always do. 

In the dining hall, there were five places set and only one person already there - Youngjae, the courtier from the day before. He smiled when he saw them and it felt, to Yugyeom at least, like the room got a little brighter. 

“Good morning!” he called brightly. “His majesty took breakfast a little earlier and will be there for discussions, but I’m here to keep you company while you eat, if that’s alright. If you’d prefer to dine just the four of you, that’s alright too-”

“Please,” Bambam said, shaking his head quickly. “Stay. We’ll eat quickly and get right to work, if that’s okay.”

Youngjae nodded and looked to Yugyeom as he sat down. “You look like you’re feeling well. How did you rest?”

“I am, thank you. I’m doing much better.” He looked up at the door opening and the smell of food wafting through the room. Eggs and meat and sauces and pieces of soft, warm bread with jam. His stomach growled. 

“I heard it was allergies. We drink a cup of a remedy for it every morning, since my husband has cats and I have a dog. Would you like me to ask that some be brought?”

Yugyeom’s mouth was full, but he nodded. Thankfully, Mark interjected, “We would all appreciate it. And the recipe, if you don’t mind.”

He smiled and waved to one of the attendants bringing food. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair, aside from when the remedy was brought and Youngjae and Jackson filled the room with laughter at the face Yugyeom made. No one told him it would be so  _ bitter _ . Mark managed to coax him into drinking all of it in one go and then promised him his favorite chocolate drink when they could find it - as though that meant  _ anything _ here where they had no access to chocolate. 

Once they were finished, Youngjae led them out and up the stairs again, to a corridor of rooms with one standing open. Inside, the king and his master of the guard sat at a table with a few other courtiers, waiting and looking over papers spread across the surface before them. 

Yugyeom took a deep breath to steal his nerves as the man looked up and slid his eyes over the five of them, resting finally on him. 

“Nice of you to join us,” he said, the barest note of  _ something _ in his voice. Yugyeom’s brow twitched. Did he think he had just skipped out on dinner? Maybe his purposeful reputation preceded him. The spoiled prince ducking out when he wasn’t interested. “Shall we begin?”

Bam moved forward, all grace and glittering diamonds as he took a seat to start the negotiations. 

It took most of the day. There was a break for lunch, at which Yugyeom left the room to find somewhere solitary to take several deep breaths before he returned. He wished he had real armor on. The king was quiet, his general almost the same, only interjecting when necessary. The advisors were stiff-fisted and had cool, calculating looks that made Yugyeom feel small. They didn’t listen to the things he said, only taking them as actual suggestions when they were repeated by someone else in the room. Mark had caught on, it seemed, and somehow signaled to Jackson who in turn repeated everything Yugyeom said in a louder voice. They were lucky Bambam hadn’t, because it would have started an argument they couldn’t afford when the other party knew they held all of the cards. 

_ Maybe we really will get three bags of flour and a sick pig _ . 

After lunch, which Yugyeom barely ate but found was full of stilted conversations with most of them sitting in silence, it was right back to the negotiation table. The Park Kingdom wanted more for what it would take to get the kingdom through the winter. They wanted more than the kingdom was willing to give, more than they could afford if they wanted to be able to form any other trade partners, if they wanted to make tools for themselves for the coming year. 

The king, general, and first advisor had broken away from the table, sitting back and murmuring quietly. The sun was beginning to set. Negotiations would go on again tomorrow. Yugyeom already felt bone tired and ignored. 

Finally, His Majesty Park Jinyoung stood and held up a hand, silencing the room easily, including Jackson who was in a heated debate about the trade value and worth of steel as opposed to ore. 

“This talk will continue tomorrow,” he said firmly. Yugyeom slumped in his chair and thanked his lucky stars that the man wasn’t looking at him, but at Bambam who met his gaze with a level stare. “We will meet in the morning to discuss your needs again, as well as what you have available for trade and the discussion of an official document ending the war between our people.” His eyes slid over from his opposite to where Yugyeom sat and he stiffened under his stare. “Backed by a marriage document, both the treaty and the trades will be more palatable to the people.”

Yugyeom felt, suddenly, like all the blood had rushed out of his head. Silence blanketed the room. 

“Marriage document?” Mark finally prompted. No one else seemed able to speak. 

The king’s eyes turned to Mark finally, then to Bambam. “The resolution of a conflict that was begun because of a broken agreement should end with the agreement being fulfilled, don’t you think? A marriage between the kingdoms. It’s a fair end to an unfair war.”

“We don’t have a princess for you,” Bambam argued, his voice sounding weak. 

“I’m not interested in a princess.”

Yugyeom’s hands closed around the arms of his chair so tightly he thought something might break. The wood or his bones, he didn’t know. His eyes had fallen to the table and he couldn’t seem to get them to look up again. 

Bambam sounded desperate as he said, “We don’t have another royal of the bloodline. I’m the only one and I can’t leave my country to the hands of someone else right after my father’s death.”

His Majesty Park Jinyoung took a step forward, just enough that Yugyeom could see him standing by the table. “The bloodline isn’t important. What’s important is that this war began with a broken marriage agreement, and we both want it to end. An official end to it will be signaled by a marriage. You brought the man who can end this with you, you put him in front of me to judge, and I find him acceptable.”

Bambam’s hands thudded loudly when they hit the table, the rings making it more impressive as he stood. “Yugyeom is not for sale.”

“I am offering to give your people what they need to get through the winter,” he said firmly, none of the shake in his voice that was in Bambam’s. “I am offering you a way to call an end to this war and save face in the process. This is good for all of us, my kingdom and yours, me and you, and  _ yes _ , I am including him. Take the night to think this over. In fact, take the morning as well. We’ll meet again in the afternoon. You decide what your people are worth to you.”

He turned away finally, heading for the door. The master of the guard followed him out. The men negotiating followed him. Finally, Yugyeom saw Youngjae’s feet in front of him. Then, with nothing said, he backed away. The door closed behind them. A hand touched his shoulder. Was he trembling, or were they? 

It was hard to tell, but if he had to guess, Yugyeom would say both.


	2. Love And Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The marriage is arranged, the deals made, but the reasons behind it are in question. Yugyeom was fine with a political marriage (well, sort of fine) but the rumor mill may put a little too much stress on the tentative agreements if they aren't careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For someone who literally is doing research on time frames and stuff, I sure am throwing a lot of shit RIGHT out the window. The best accuracy is the kind mixed with inaccuracy so that history is less gross in my kpop fanfiction. 
> 
> Thank you so much to S for reading through this for me xoxo

“We’re not doing this,” Bambam said as they retreated to their chamber of guest rooms. There was a small parlor among them that the guard led them to, and a servant who came along with a tray of food and a bottle of wine. He tried to sound firm, but his voice shook. 

“Of course we aren’t.” Mark assured him. “But we need to think of how to reject it carefully. If we just say no, it’s all lost.”

“If we just say no, will it start the war up again?” Jackson asked, his voice solemn and the gravel in it grittier than usual. 

Bam took a deep breath and took the glass of wine his friend offered him, then sank into the chair as he drained it. “No. It won’t. I don’t think Park Jinyoung is going to go to war with anyone unless it’s for something big. No personal slights. He’s a good king, he’s just-”

“How can you say that?” Jackson demanded. It was a good thing it was him, because no one else could have gotten away with it. “He’s asking you to sell Yugyeom off to him for a brideprice, like he’s up for trade! He’s not a good king, he’s not a good anything!”

Bambam looked up miserably, not even heated about the interruption. Mark answered in the heavy silence. “He’s thinking like his people, and that makes him a good king. Or at least, he’s thinking of something to trade that won’t bankrupt or starve us. It’s not something we’re going to do, but it’s a good idea to look at why he would do such a thing.”

“He’s not going to give us what we need without giving up more than we can spare,” Jackson snapped. “He’s going to bleed us dry one way or another. We should just leave, try to start negotiations with another kingdom while we still have time before winter to do so.”

Before anyone could say more, Yugyeom, who hadn’t spoken since before the proposal, reached for a glass to fill with wine. Mark took it from him, steadier hands pouring for him. “It won’t bleed the kingdom dry if I marry him,” he said softly. 

Mark’s hand wobbled. Wine spilled on the dark oak table. No one moved. Not until Jackson replied, “It would bleed all of us dry to lose you.”

Yugyeom took the glass and sat, despite not really wanting to drink anything. He stared at the liquid a moment before he replied. “It won’t. The kingdom will function without me. There are letters and trips to keep up and I’ll-”

“This is not up for discussion,” Bambam snapped. Yugyeom allowed himself to be cut off. “We are not discussing your marriage as though you were a horse to breed. You’re my  _ brother _ , you’re the heart of-”

“I’m not the heart of anything.” He took a deep breath, pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m your brother, but our kingdom is full of brothers and sisters and parents. Our kingdom is full of families. I love you, Bambam, but I’m not going to sacrifice them to be at your side. All the diamonds in all the mountains in the world are not worth anything if you starve before you can pull them from the stone.”

His eyes filled with tears, glittering as much as the rings on his fingers. “I don’t know how to run a kingdom without you.”

“You do,” Yugyeom assured him, crossing the room again and taking his hand, lacing their fingers. “You know what to do, and for the really hard things, you’ll have Jackson and Mark. And for the things you need me for and only me, a messenger can make it here and back in eighteen days.”

“Eighteen days is a lifetime.” His voice cracked, which continued on to crack right through Yugyeom’s heart. 

“For a fly, but not for a king.”

The heel of his hand came up, wiping at a heavily lined eye. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to leave Cupcake with you.”

“I’m allergic to cats, you can’t leave Cupcake with me.”

“Who’ll watch over you?”

Yugyeom sighed, pushing his brother over enough to take the seat beside him. It wasn’t quite big enough for two, but with enough determination, anything is possible. He gathered him into his arms, knowing that he couldn’t ask for comfort now. He had already decided to do it and to convince these three, he would need to put on a mask he didn’t know if he’d be able to take off. He didn’t know if he was safe. He didn’t know if King Park Jinyoung would  _ truly _ be a good king or if he just seemed that way. 

Still, with words that tasted almost like a lie, he said, “I don’t need someone to watch over me. This is a castle, and I’ll be royalty here. There will be people to watch over me.”

“But not your people,” Jackson murmured. “Not our people.”

“I came to our castle from somewhere else,” Yugyeom reminded them. Mark studied the floor. “My mother learned to trust the guards and the staff. I will do the same.”

“Your mother brought someone along to help care for you,” Mark reminded. 

Yugyeom’s arms tightened around his king’s shoulders. “When I was a child, yes. No one came along to help care for her.”

Marks hands were white-knuckled in his lap. “I came to this kingdom with you, I’ll leave it with you. If you’re to live here, I’ll stay too.”

“No,” Jackson protested. “No, you can’t, neither of you-”

Yugyeom’s hand came up. Any other time, he would have steamrolled over him. Not today, not for this. “Bambam needs you in his court, Mark. He needs you to help him lead more than I need you to be by my side.” It hurt to say, to even think, but he didn’t know how else it could work. 

Mark held his stare evenly. “They don’t listen to me unless you’re there to force them. Before this, they listened to nothing I said. Without you, what purpose is there to my being there?”

“Bambam needs someone on his side that he can talk to. He needs more than one person he can talk to, someone who can at least just  _ listen _ and back him up when the advisors think they know best. Which, I was going to tell you after all this had settled, you should replace them, Bammie, they’re not your advisors, they’re your fathers. They’re not leading your kingdom to what it could be, they’re leading it to what it was.”

Part of a sob broke through and he turned, buried his face in Yugyeom’s good shirt, The stain would never come out, but he would keep this shirt forever. He didn’t know the next time he would be able to see his brother after they left. 

Mark’s jaw was tight, eyes red-rimmed with the effort to hold himself together. “How will you sleep on your own?”

“I’ll find a way.” He pulled Bambam a little closer and reached a hand out to Mark, Once he was near enough to hug, he pulled him in and looked to Jackson. “This is what’s best for our people and we all know it. This is the out we needed.”

“I’ll send someone along to be your personal guard,” he choked out. 

Yugyeom shook his head. “And insult to my new groom? You shouldn’t.”

Jackson moved forward as well, folding himself over Bambam’s back to finish burying their only prince. 

It took a few more tries for the arguments to die out, but on Bambam’s third yawn, Jackson called a ceasefire to it in favor of sleep. Yugyeom heard him informing the guard about the sleeping arrangements for the night as he followed his brother into his room. 

Once inside, he wrapped himself in the soft pajamas that weren’t his and climbed into the bed, curled on his side to face him. 

“I’ll miss you,” Bambam whispered into the dark. 

“You better,” he whispered back. “What’s the point of a best friend if you don’t miss them when they’re gone?”

Silence. A broken sob in the nighttime. A moment later, his arms were full of crying royalty. 

When morning came, they were all grateful for a few more hours of solace. Bambam looked puffy and red-eyed from crying all night. The rest of them were little better. Yugyeom had his suspicions that Mark had shared his bed with Jackson, but he couldn’t blame him. Sleeping alone would have been difficult after last night’s news for anyone. Yugyeom asked the nearest guard to fetch food and Woojin. He didn’t know many of the servants, but he knew Woojin knew at least a little about remedies. 

In the parlor, still dressed in pajamas, Woojin greeted them good morning as he came in with the servers. His cheery look faded at the grim air inside. Once sure everyone was safe and uninjured, he fled the room to get compresses for their eyes, hoping to clear up some of the red-eye and puffiness left behind. 

Breakfast was quiet. They ate little and talked less. No one would let Yugyeom further than arms length away and while he had thought the fighting was over once they were all beginning to grieve, it picked up again. 

Bambam was devastated. Jackson was outraged. Mark was pleading. 

“I have decided,” Yugyeom said firmly. He wiped the dampness from his eyes as he removed the compress. “This decision is final.”

Jackson's words were snarled, “You don’t get what you want just because you say it.” For anyone else, it would have been a blow.

Yugyeom raised a brow and urged Bambam to sit up and away a little. He worked hard to ignore the little distressed noise it brought out. He conceded one hand, although it was hard to look haughty with a king clinging to your hand like a child. “I seem to recall you benefiting as much as anyone here from me getting what I want  _ just because I say it _ .” The verbal slap had him drawing in a sharp breath. “You don’t get to give me orders, Jackson. You’ve never had that right. I listened to you because what you said was always fair, and it was what was best. I trust you. Do you not trust me?”

Tears filled his eyes again. “Yes, but-”

“ _ No buts _ . Not anymore. There’s nothing else to be said. Please stop making me fight for this, Jackson, it’s hard. It’s hard and I’m scared too. Please just let me do what I can for our people. Hasn’t this land been through enough because someone put love over duty?”

He hated that he had to say it. He hated the look it put on Jackson’s face. He hated the way one minute, he was standing and the next, Jackson was wrapping him up in a hug and pulling him down into the chair again on his lap. He was too big to sit there, too big for the lap of any man, but none of them seemed to mind as they surrounded him again. 

Yugyeom let himself be afraid, and let himself be comforted. 

The midday meal came, but none of them ate. They invited the servants to join, but they all retreated instead to give them a little more time alone. By the time someone came to escort them to the room again, all four of them had collected themselves and dressed again for another day of work. Everyone wore a thicker layer of make up, but it did nothing to hide the day’s emotions. 

In the same room from the day before, the same people gathered. The same handful of advisors, the same general, the same first advisor, and the same king between them, leaning on the arm of the chair and watching as they came in. His eyes lingered on Yugyeom a little too long before he turned them to Bambam again. 

“Have you thought it over then?” he asked. Nothing in his tone suggested that he knew the answer before it was given, but it had to be clear on all of their faces. 

Bambam’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed it again and took a deep breath. His head tilted back to try and keep weakness from falling from his eyes. 

Yugyeom stepped forward instead. “It would be my honor.” He tried not to shy away when the dark gaze turned to him and pinned him to the floor. He cleared his throat and started again. “It would be my honor to call an end to this war and to serve as a paving stone to trade between our kingdoms.” 

His Majesty King Park Jinyoung stared at him for another few moments. Something danced in his eyes, but Yugyeom couldn’t tell what it was. “You’ll marry me,” he said, although it sounded almost like a question. Almost something hopeful. 

“I will marry you.”

His lips twitched and if Yugyeom thought it was possible, he would think that the king had nearly smiled. He hadn’t seen it happen since they’d arrived, but he supposed this was a victory for him in some right. It had to be, for it to be his idea. 

He gestured to the table before him as Jaebeom stood from the seat to his right and moved to his husband’s side. “Excellent. Then take a seat and we’ll begin.” They moved forward, prepared to take their seats, but a hand raised to stop him. “Not there. As my betrothed, you sit with me now.”

Yugyeom’s breath left his body. Bambam’s hands curled into glittering fists.

“Of course,” Yugyeom nodded. The walk to cross the room took the lifetime Bambam was concerned about the trip between kingdoms. Was it only ten steps or was it eighteen days? Either way, it was far enough to carry him from one kingdom to the other.

The negotiations after that went quickly. Yugyeom hadn’t thought about what it would mean for him to agree, but it seemed like the tone of the room shifted in his favor when he did it. Or, perhaps, he was a heavier bargaining chip than he’d thought. Whatever it was, the outrageous demands being made the day before were gone. The Park Kingdom was practically giving them what they needed. 

Jackson’s voice rang out in his head.  _ He’s asking you to sell Yugyeom off to him for a brideprice, like he’s up for trade! _ Maybe he was. Maybe he had been what they were waiting for. Maybe this was why they agreed to trade, to end the war with a marriage. 

For something so clearly political, though, the king at Yugyeom’s side acted terribly strange. Where he had spent the day before being spoken over and steamrolled, everything he said needing to be repeated for them to listen, the king cut over his advisors and forced them to listen to him, held them in silence when he spoke until they did it without needing to be prompted. He could feel eyes on him, whether he was speaking or just trying to listen. It was distracting. 

The sun was heading toward the horizon when the man raised his hand again. “That’s enough for today,” he announced. The counselor turned, lips pinched in disapproval. He had been in the process of arguing with Mark in what seemed to be an attempt to wear him down. He must have thought he was winning if he was upset about an end coming to it, but Mark had grown up at Yugyeom’s side, with Bambam and Jackson an arm’s reach away. He had no chance. 

“Prince?” 

Yugyeom looked up, startled. It sounded like a question. A request. What could he possibly want that he couldn’t simply take? “Your majesty?”

He didn’t smile, his lips didn’t move. This close, though, he looked devastatingly handsome. Big eyes and full lips and perfect, dark hair. “Would you join us for dinner?”

_ What else would I do for dinner? _ He shot a glance across the room at his brother, who looked as baffled as he felt. Behind him, Jackson’s brow was furrowed thoughtfully, Mark staring expressionless at them both. “Um- Yes.” It sounded lame even to him. 

Whether it was lame or not, though, he was graced with the smallest turn of a smile, with the barest twist of royal lips before he got up. Then, even more bafflingly, he stood and turned to Bambam and the others. “And you? Will you join us for dinner?”

Slowly, Bambam nodded, only adding, “Yes, of course,” at an obvious nudge from Mark under the table. 

“Then we will meet in the dining hall shortly. Your majesty,” he tipped his head to Bambam. A moment of a turn, fingertips brushing over the back of Yugyeom’s hand. “Prince.”

The king filed out, followed by Jaebeom and Youngjae, then the advisors behind him. Yugyeom stayed seated, across the room from his brother and feeling almost  _ flustered _ . 

“What the fuck was that?” Bambam asked softly, staring at him. 

He felt shaken and his voice showed it. “I don’t know? Should we… dress for dinner?”

Mark stood and crossed the room, crouching at Yugyeom’s side. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but the man didn’t look convinced. “Do you want to stay in our rooms instead of going to dinner?”

“I said I would join him,” he argued, shaking his head. 

“Worse promises have been broken.”

Yugyeom shook his head again. “No, I’m okay. I’m just. That was weird, right? You saw that was weird.”

“It was weird,” Jackson confirmed, heading for the door and poking his head out. “There’s a guard here waiting to guide us back to our rooms and then take us to dinner. We can talk more about this later.”

Still feeling shaky, Yugyeom stood and let Mark tug him to the door. Before they got there, his hand dropped. For propriety’s sake. Outside, a familiar face greeted him, pale and patient with curly brown hair falling around it. “Ah, Prince,” he greeted, smiling a little wider. He turned to the others. “Your Majesty. Sirs.” He turned, heading down the hall and leading the way. It was nice to have someone who at least greeted them. Most of the guards didn’t, even before they led them through the halls. 

Once in his own room again, Yugyeom was faced with the same two valets from before. Hyunjin was shaking out a jacket while Seungmin inspected a line of shoes. 

“Ah, your highness,” Hyunjin greeted when he crossed through the door. His eyes sparkled, his energy high. Seungmin’s eyes rolled. “Is it true? About the engagement?” 

Yugyeom hesitated. “It’s already spread around?”

“Hyunjin has a way of knowing the king’s business,” Seungmin said dryly. He grunted at the unsubtle kick to his shin. “Will you be dressing for dinner now?”

Yugyeom nodded, stepping forward a little numbly. He’d hoped to get out of this conversation at least for a little while, but it didn’t seem like he was going to get the chance. 

“You’re so lucky,” Hyunjin sighed, laying out a few shirts and then holding up a pair of jackets for Yugyeom to choose from. He didn’t care enough to know whether he waved at the navy or the black one. “He refused all the arrangements his parents tried to make before they died. Everyone thought he was going to try and marry Jaebeom until he married  _ Youngjae _ and that was a scandal for weeks.”

“Must you gossip?” Seungmin asked, catching on fairly quickly to the way Yugyeom didn’t seem to have an opinion. Instead, he chose the shirt from the bed and started helping the prince undress. 

The world was dark for a moment as the shirt came up. “Was he going to?” 

“No one knows. His mother wanted to see him married before her death, and when she passed away, his father was trying to guarantee alliances before he passed the kingdom on in case-” He glanced at Yugyeom, then back to the trousers. 

“In case we attacked again and you needed allies,” Yugyeom finished, mind racing. No wonder he wanted to end things so badly. “So we would be the most beneficial ally, then. Was this the intention? To ask for my hand to call it to an end?”

Seungmin frowned as he helped Yugyeom into a fresh shirt. “No, I don’t believe so. Before he took the throne, His Majesty was adamant that he would not marry for political purposes, since the breaking of one started the war.”

“But this is a political marriage.” Hyunjin and Seungmin didn’t answer right away, seeming thoughtful as they pulled Yugyeom up to change his trousers from working ones to something finer. 

Hyunjin gasped, scaring Yugyeom nearly enough to topple him over. “What if it isn’t! What if it’s love at first sight? Wouldn’t that be romantic? Ah, I wish it were me.”

Yugyeom’s nose scrunched. Seungmin rolled his eyes again. “I doubt that it’s love at first sight. But it  _ is _ possible that he simply likes you.” He knelt as Yugyeom fastened the trousers, helping him into the boots. “At any rate, we won’t know what he’s thinking. All the gossip in the castle can’t tell us the things he says to General Jaebeom or His Grace, Choi Youngjae.”

“His first advisor is a Duke?” His head felt like it was spinning. 

“The general is a Duke,” Hyunjin told him, holding open the jacket. “Now His Grace is a Duke as well.”

There were too many questions. He needed more answers. Instead, he moved to the vanity numbly to reapply his make up. The third time Seungmin stopped him from putting eye color on his lips, they turned him and applied the make up for him. Hyunjin’s chatter kept up, but Yugyeom was too saturated in information to take in anything new, so he let him continue on until the door opened. 

“Yugyeom?” Mark’s gentle voice asked. The valets parted and he blinked at the prince. “Ah. You look nice. Are you ready?”

“Have I kept everyone waiting?” he asked, standing and nearly toppling over. Were these shoes Bambam’s? He didn’t need to be  _ taller _ . Had he been wearing these when he crossed the room?

“Only a moment.” He was lying, and they both knew it, but Yugyeom appreciated it. He needed the kindness right now. He crossed to the door and let Mark steady him, then arrange his hair. “You look very handsome.”

“Is it too much?” he whispered, shifting nervously. Suddenly, he was afraid of how he would appear to the king. He didn’t even register what he was wearing. 

Mark shook his head, stepping back to look him over. “It’s not too much, but it is impressive. You’ll knock him off his feet.”

“I don’t want to knock him off his feet.”

“Too bad,” Bambam said firmly, coming out of his room and giving Yugyeom a critical look. His hands were full and the look in his eye made Yugyeom think they must be filled with trouble. He stepped forward and handed a pair of earrings to him, then a necklace to Mark. “He’s seen enough to ask for you. I want you to give him something to beg for.”

Yugyeom put the earrings in, but frowned a little anyway. “I don’t want anyone to beg.” 

The cool chain of the necklace went around his throat. Thin enough to appease him rather than the ostentatious things Bambam usually wore, but glittering enough to catch the eye. Bambam took his hand when he finished with the earrings and fastened a bracelet at his wrist. “And I don’t want him to take my brother from me, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” His ringed hands closed on his brother’s shoulders and he leveled a look at him. “You are going to come to dinner and devastate him, Yugyeom. I’ll take nothing less. The more he likes you, the more we can get out of him and it’s important to have some leverage here.”

He scowled. “I thought I wasn’t a bargaining chip.”

The king nodded again, but there was a tightness around his eyes, his mouth. “I don’t want you to be, but if this is how things are, this is how they are. Things here are almost done and then- And then I have to go back, Yugyeom. I want enough leverage to take you back with me, even for a few weeks. If I can’t, I want him to put it off long enough for me to return. I want to be at your wedding.” The ringed hands moved to cup his face. “I want him to want to give you the world so that we can ask for just a piece of it before he takes you away.”

When he finally choked out a reply, his voice was terribly small even on just the word, “Okay.”

Jackson’s hand, warm and firm, pressed against his back. “We should head to dinner.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. Jackson remained terribly quiet as they followed the same guard from before, who finally introduced himself as Chan. He led them to the dining hall they’d eaten in before and pulled the heavy door open. 

Inside, the king, the general, and the duke were already seated. All three stood from their chairs when they entered, although a king should certainly have stayed seated. “Good evening,” the king greeted. His eyes had fallen on Yugyeom when they entered and they flickered briefly over the others before he returned to stare at him. Yugyeom turned his own away, unable to meet the intense look for too long. He heard him clear his throat, then go on, “You look lovely. Will you sit?”

Another question he already had the answer to. Why did he keep asking questions he had the answer to?

Yugyeom glanced up, then over at the others. Too much tension in this dining hall. No one would be able to eat when their knives were so busy trying to saw through it. He swallowed the lump in his throat anyway and crossed to the table. 

At the head, the king sat. There was an empty place on either side of him, then the duke and finally his husband. On the other side were three empty seats. Yugyeom’s hand touched one of the chairs on the vacant side before he realized his mistake. 

_ As my betrothed, you sit with me now. _

He rounded the table’s end and stood at the chair there, unable to meet the eyes that were on him. He heard the pull of chairs along the stone and finally sat when his brother did. 

“You look lovely,” the king told him, a little closer now, a little quieter. 

“You said that,” he mumbled back. 

“Ah.” 

From Yugyeom’s other side he heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter choked off, but when he looked up both men were taking a drink of wine. A strange coincidence. 

Silence. Weighted and oppressive. Wine was poured for the four of them and Mark and Bambam drank like they were dying men, desperate to do something to keep them from needing to address it. Food came to the table and was placed on their plates. For a moment, no one ate. No one spoke. Jackson toyed with his fork. 

Silence. 

Finally, Youngjae broke it. “I hear the Prince looks lovely tonight.”

Mark choked on his wine. The king’s hand rubbed at his brow. Yugyeom’s face flushed

“I had heard that,” Jaebeom agreed, nodding. He leaned forward just a little, tipping his head to Jackson. “Did you hear?”

The smile that crept over Jackson’s face finally released some of that tension, but Yugyeom wasn’t pleased that it was at his expense. “No, I hadn’t. Where did such a rumor start?”

“Oh, the mouth of the king,” Youngjae informed him, his tone taking that of gala gossip. “In fact, I even hear that the Prince looks lovely.”

“Enough,” the king sighed, lifting his tableware. When Yugyeom glanced up, his cheeks were just as red. “Are you two done? Can we eat?” 

Youngjae almost sounded contesting as he replied, “As the king commands.”

“I should have kept you both next to me so I could kick you under the table.”

Yugyeom felt his lips turn in a smile he didn’t tell them to create. 

“That’s the whole reason I keep Yugyeom next to me usually,” Bambam teased, kicking his brother under the table. He didn’t know how he had the accuracy to do that without hitting the wrong leg, but his pointed shoes collided expertly with Yugyeom’s ankle. 

He jerked, pulling back and hissing at the pain, then letting it turn into an ungraceful snort of laughter. “You keep me next to you because no one else wants to sit there,” he shot back. 

They were in a strange kingdom. Yugyeom was being taken away. They should be solemn, they should be serious, they should at the very least be on their best manners. To find that he didn’t have to be those things in the presence of the man he was to wed was worth the risk. Maybe he would need to be, later, but it alleviated more than a little fear when Jackson made the king laugh outright. Yugyeom regretted it a little that he raised a hand to cover it. He wondered, in the back of his mind, what that smile looked like behind his hand. 

Dinner was less strained after that, but wound up being largely led by Jackson, as dinners often were, with Bambam yelling at him and Youngjae and Mark’s loud laughter echoing off of the walls. Yugyeom wouldn’t call it comfortable, but it was comforting to know he wasn’t in the regimented place he feared it would be. When he glanced at the king to his left over dessert, he found him looking back at him with an expression he couldn’t place. He turned to Mark instead and was met with a look that was somewhere between thoughtful and knowing and it turned his stomach in a not unpleasant way. 

When they were all finished, stomach full and tastebuds sated, Jaebeom was the first to stand. “Your majesty- Majesties?” A puzzled look crossed his face but he shook his head. “Your highness. If you don’t mind, I’ve been up since dawn and I’m very tired.”

“You don’t sleep,” the king accused. 

“He tries,” Youngjae cooed, reaching up to put a hand on his husband’s face. “If you don’t need either of us, we’ll go to bed.”

“We should all go to bed,” Mark suggested. “We have more discussions tomorrow.”

Yugyeom stood, the king standing a second after him, and the others scrambling to do the polite thing and get to their feet as well. “I’ll see you in the morning?” he said softly, leaning in a little and the tips of his fingers brushing Yugyeom’s hand. 

He hesitated, casting a puzzled glance over to the others and then down to his hand. “I- Yes?”

“Breakfast?”

Yugyeo gave him a baffled blink and nodded. Where else would he eat? He supposed they hadn’t eaten breakfast together in a while, but-

“Actually, Jinyoung,” Bambam started, tearing his attention away from his brother. He offered an apologetic smile. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to have a private breakfast again.” There must have been a look on the man’s face, because Bambam’s spine straightened just a little bit. “A few more mornings of having him all to ourselves won’t hurt. There are only so many of them left now.”

The king turned just enough to cast a glance at Yugyeom, then back to his counterpart. “You’ll be at breakfast too,” he tried. 

“We will be together the entire day tomorrow. Just a little longer of keeping my brother to myself would mean a lot. To the both of us.”

There was a beat and then he turned back to the prince. The warmth in his eyes had faded a little, but he was no less pretty. “After breakfast, then,” he conceded. His fingers brushed the back of Yugyeom’s hand again and with that he led his courtiers out of the dining hall. 

“It would seem he likes you,” Mark mumbled, brow raised. 

Jackson’s hand scrubbed over his brow. “An understatement. I don’t think we’re going to get to take Yugyeom back with us.”

Bambam nodded. “That was a longshot anyway, but I’m pretty sure it’s not happening.”

Yugyeom sank back into his seat, head dropping into his hands. He felt shaky and unsure. None of this made any  _ sense _ , nothing was happening the way he thought it would. Every time he thought he understood anything, it felt like the ground shifted at his feet and he had to learn to walk on something new. 

“Yugyeom?” Mark asked, moving around the table and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he replied but his voice sounded small again. “It’s just- This is just a lot. I don’t know what he  _ wants _ from me.”

“I think…” Mark started, but trailed off and started to try and guide Yugyeom into standing. 

“You think what?” 

He shook his head, pulling Yugyeom up more insistently and trying to guide him to the door. “It’s not my place.”

Bambam pulled a face, shooting him a look over his shoulder. “What’s changed enough to make you care about that?” 

Mark’s eyes darted to the servants clearing the table of the remnants of their meal, the guards at the door, the one waiting to guide them back to their rooms. 

“Ah,” Jackson nodded, moving a little closer to his king. “Maybe something better discussed in private, majesty?”

Bambam hummed, but let the trip to their rooms fall into silence, Mark’s hand on Yugyeom’s back and guiding him while making sure he was steady. 

Once they reached their rooms, Mark paused with him at the door to put a hand on his cheek. “I’ll be in soon, alright? Get changed for bed.”

Yugyeom nodded, but Bambam shot over to butt in. “Who said you get him tonight? He’s  _ my _ brother, he’s sleeping with me tonight.”

“You slept with him last night,” he argued. He sounded almost petulant. 

Bambam scoffed. “I’m the king, don’t I get to do whatever I want? My brother, my rules.”

While being fought over was terribly flattering, Yugyeom put a hand on both of their shoulders. “Tonight with Mark, Bammie? Please? The last night is going to be with you, we both know that, and I don’t have a lot of nights that I’m sure I can stay with you guys.”

“What about me?” Jackson asked, frowning from behind his king. “Do I not get a night?”

“ _ No _ ,” Bambam hissed, moving forward. “You do not.”

“ _ Enough _ ,” Yugyeom said firmly, raising his hands. “Mark tonight. Jackson tomorrow. Then Bammie.”

“What if we don’t stay another night?” Jackson argued. 

“If everything is said and done tomorrow, then I’ll ask if I can have another day with you before you leave. I’ll make sure you stay long enough, okay? Besides, I need to talk to Mark tonight.”

Finally, with more than their fair share of grumbling, the three went to their own rooms and Yugyeom turned to go into his own. Once again, he was greeted by his new valets. Maybe they would stay his valets when he lived here permanently. He kind of hoped so. Friends were often hard for him to make. 

Hyunjin gave him a bright smile while Seungmin offered a more subdued one at his side. On the bed, pajamas were already laid out for him. “Evening, Prince,” Seungmin greeted. “How was dinner?”

“Lovely,” Yugyeom replied. They may not understand why it was funny, but his smile likely gave away that it was. 

The pair helped him dress for bed, but as they were cleaning up the last of the things, Mark slipped inside dressed for bed as well and tipped his head to the two of them. Hyunjin’s eyes flitted between them with something curious in them, but a cutting glance from Seungmin silenced him. 

“I need to speak with Mark before we go to bed,” Yugyeom assured them from his perch on the edge of the mattress. “Thank you, boys. Good night.”

“Good night, your highness,” they chorused, bowing their heads and heading out of the room. Hyunjin’s eyes lingered a little longer on the pair of them before the door closed. 

Mark watched them leave before he headed for the bed and crawled into it. “They seem nice. I hope you aren’t due for a scandal before your stay here even really begins.”

“They are nice,” Yugyeom told him, blowing out the lamp and crawling in with him, curling against his side. “I don’t think so. I hope not, anyway. I mean, they saw us when we were napping on that very first day and didn’t say anything.”

“That was before you were to marry their king,” Mark hummed. His arm wound around Yugyeom’s shoulders and held him close, long fingers toying gently with his hair. 

It was tempting to fall asleep like this right away, but Yugyeom had questions. “You started to say something at dinner and stopped yourself. Can you tell me now and we can talk about it over breakfast?”

“It might be better to talk about it over breakfast,” Mark countered. 

“Please? I can’t wait that long.”

Mark was silent so long Yugyeom would have thought he was asleep if he didn’t know better. He was too familiar with how Mark’s breathing felt when he was asleep. “I think… Perhaps, the reason the king is so keen to marry you might be that he  _ does _ like you.”

Had they not been in pitch dark, only the bare light of the stars and the waning moon lighting the room, Yugyeom would have whipped his head around to look at him. “He doesn’t even  _ know _ me.”

He could feel Mark shift under his head on his chest. “No, but it’s not terribly easy to meet other royals, is it? It’s usually all letters, that’s how your mother met Bammie’s father, right? They met at a ball and kept correspondence until they could be together.” When Yugyeom hummed, he went on. “But there’s already bad blood between the kingdoms. If he likes you, this could be his only chance. Maybe this is political, and maybe it was the plan all along, but maybe he just… wants to get to know you too and doesn’t know how else to do it?”

“He has no reason to do that,” Yugyeom mumbled. He pressed his face down against the soft material of his shirt. “I’ve done nothing to gain his interest and he could have just invited me to stay a while longer, or asked to court me, or  _ anything _ .”

“I didn’t say it was a perfect theory,” Mark griped. He sighed again, shifted under Yugyeom’s weight. “I don’t know for sure what’s going on but I’m just  _ saying _ . His first impression of you, of really seeing you, was pretty impressive.”

Yugyeom couldn’t see him but this time he did look up. He hoped Mark could see the skeptical look he was giving him. “I was swollen with allergies and getting sick.”

“Not  _ that _ . I meant at the negotiations table.”

He shook his head. “No one listened to me.”

“He listened.” Mark sighed again. “You did a lot of work on this, Gyeomie. You worked hard. You know what we need and what we can spare and it’s clear you  _ know _ that. Just because the people around you weren’t listening doesn’t mean no one was listening. How do you think I feel when I’m with Bam’s advisors and Jackson or Bam have to cut them off and force them to listen to me?” He paused, hand sliding back into his hair. “What I’m saying is that I saw him. He was paying attention. He was watching you know things and work hard and not give up and that’s something special. I’m sure other kingdoms know exactly the face you’ve shown to the few dignitaries that have come by and word has spread, but that’s not what you showed him.”

Yugyeom listened, but it was overwhelming again. He felt like it would never stop. “Do you think other kingdoms talk about me like I’m a brat?”

“You wanted them to,” Mark reminded him.

He tucked his face down again. “I know but it sucks.”

He hummed and finally rearranged the prince into the position they both knew he liked for sleep. “It does, but it was an effective tool when you needed it. It was very smart of you. You’ve always been smart, Yugyeom. Now go to sleep and we’ll see what Bam and Jackson have to say about it in the morning, okay?”

Yugyeom didn’t sleep well, but he did get to sleep eventually, head tucked under Mark’s chin and half on top of him under the thick duvet. Morning came to greet them too quickly, and with it were Yugyeom’s valets gently shaking him awake. Mark’s arm slipped away and ruffled his hair as he heard Hyunjin and Seungmin telling them breakfast was soon and it was time to wake. 

When Mark got up, the bed was cold and Yugyeom curled tighter in on himself, uninterested in getting up. The two of them tried a few more times, but then a third person barged in and he had just enough time to hear, “You’re being too nice,” before the blanket was ripped away and hands shook him awake in a way that was impossible to ignore. 

He whined and shoved at Jackson’s arms, bursting with unhappy giggles when fingers dug into his sides and forced his tired limbs to thrash. “Stop!” he groaned, kicking and shoving and trying to roll away. “Stop it! I’m up, I’m awake, get off!”

Having done his job, Jackson leaned down and smacked a kiss to his brow, then turned to the valets. “You’re going to have to get someone meaner to wake him up,” he told them. “Or who’s at least not scared of riling him up.”

Yugyeom sat up and glared at the three of them as the youngers boys laughed. “Jackson, get out,” he groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

When he was gone, he could hear his valets moving around the room, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care what they chose as he dragged himself to the edge of the bed. 

“The man who came in last night,” Hyunjin started, coming over to help Yugyeom out of his bedclothes. “That’s the advisor brought along, right? What’s his title?”

“He doesn’t have a title,” Yugyeom replied, standing and mindlessly letting Seungmin help him to where a bath had been drawn before he’d woken. Maybe that was why they were so adamant to wake him. He wouldn’t mind a bath. “Mark was a servant, but then he became advisor to the king. We worked on the trade together before we came.”

“You must have gotten very close while you were working,” Hyunjin continued evenly. Seungmin mumbled something, but Yugyeom was distracted by getting into the warm water. 

“We were already close,” he shrugged. “He was my personal valet before he became advisor.”

“Will he come with you when you marry the king?” Seungmin asked, sounding carefully gentle. Yugyeom’s eyes opened finally, turning to look at the man washing his back. Something was strange about the questions and he needed to wake up enough to notice. 

He took another rag and started to wash his front. “No. He’s an advisor now, not a valet. My brother will need his help to run things properly, especially since now Mark is the only one who knows anything about trade.”

Hyunjin hummed. Yugyeom tried not to squirm. The water was warm, but he was uncomfortable. “Well, maybe after things are settled, you lover can-”

“My  _ what _ ?” Yugyeom demanded, turning so fast water sloshed out of the tub. Both valets jerked back. “Mark’s not- Mark and I aren’t  _ lovers _ .”

“You share a bed,” Hyunjin pointed out, sounding not-quite-contrite. “You’ve shared a bed twice on this trip alone.”

“We shared a bed when we were boys, too,” Yugyeom replied. “I don’t like to sleep alone. I also shared a bed with my brother, do you think we’re lovers?” Neither of them answered, but Hyunjin’s eyes fell to the ground. “I get scared when I sleep alone. Please don’t- Please don’t go telling people Mark is my lover, especially not now. You understand what that could do, right?”

Seungmin looked up at him, then elbowed Hyunjin. Prompted, he nodded and agreed, “Yes, your highness.”

“I’m not-” He cut himself off, took a deep breath, and tried again. “I’m not trying to bully you or command you or anything. I just want you to understand. Mark is a close friend and nothing more. He never has been. I’m not having an affair now, and I won’t have one after I marry your king.”

They nodded. Yugyeom got the feeling they didn’t believe him, especially since they were silent for the rest of the bath and only spoke when absolutely necessary as they helped him dress for the day. He left the room feeling miserable and a little frightened. Mark and Jackson were already in the hallway, leaving them waiting - as usual - for Bambam. 

“You okay?" Mark asked on reflex. He always seemed to be asking if he was okay. “You look shaken.”

“We’ll talk over breakfast,” Yugyeom mumbled, resisting the urge to seek comfort in someone’s touch. 

Bambam came out, looking as expensive as ever, and led the way to the guard who was guide them to the dining room. They knew the way by now, but that didn’t matter. It was a formality, and a precaution. 

Once they were all seated, food in front of them and servants dismissed for the time being, Yugyeom started, “My valets think Mark and I are lovers.”

Silence fell over the table, then a heavy breath from Jackson. Mark nodded. “That makes sense. They keep seeing us share a bed.”

“Do you think this will make it to the king?” Jackson asked, rubbing over his brow. 

Yugyeom shrugged. “Maybe. I hope not.”

Bambam laid his hands flat on the table, a signal that he was thinking. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then nodded as if a decision was made. “We’ve been careless, but we’ll be better now. I doubt we have more than a few days. Mark, hands off Yugyeom. If something is wrong, give Jackson a heads up and he can do whatever damage control we need. I’m sure our rumor has made it here, so that’ll overpower any other ones.”

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true,” Jackson countered. It raised the mood just a little and Bam gave him a shove.

“This makes my theory a little more complicated,” Mark added, picking at his toast. Jackson prompted him when he didn’t go on and he frowned at his plate. “I think the reason he’s asked for Yugyeom’s hand isn’t first and foremost of politics. I think it’s because he likes him.”

“Which makes no sense,” Yugyeom interjected. “He could have just asked to write, or come to visit or  _ something _ .”

Bambam frowned and shook his head. “No, not like this.” Yugyeom’s head snapped up. “I mean, royal marriages are always political, like with your mom and my dad, but even if they’re not meant to be like that, what else is he gonna do? He can’t drop by and take you on a date, that’s insane. We live a twenty day journey away. Even our parents only sent letters and it took a year for them to get enough correspondence for it. He could arrange an event, but that’s time and money he’s already sending to us, and risking a possible scandal by inviting us along with all of his allies and ours. If he arranges a marriage, it works out politically, it looks like a move of a benign leader, it’s opens trade, and he gets to get closer to you.”

“He doesn’t even  _ know _ me,” Yugyeom argued. “Why would he care if he could get closer to me at all?”

Bambam reached across the table, clasping his hands tightly. “It’s truly amazing how little you understand about royal politics.” When Yugyeom scoffed and pulled his hands away, he continued. “This is what  _ I _ would think to do. Maybe not so extreme, but the best way to get to know you is to keep you here.”

“He’s forcing me to stay here,” Yugyeom mumbled. 

“He’s not,” Mark assured him. “He asked you. He gave you a choice. He  _ keeps _ giving you choices, or haven’t you noticed?”

This was too much. Too much for Yugyeom. He wanted to go back to bed. Instead, he dropped his face into his hands and tried to steady his breath. A warm hand on his back helped the calm, but at a sharp noise from Jackson, Mark pulled away again. It was going to be a long day. 

When they reached the council room, the king and his entourage were already there. The barest twist of a smile turned his lips again and he stood, getting them all to their feet. “Good morning, prince,” he greeted, then tipped his head to the others. “Kunpimook.”

“Since you’re marrying my brother, you’ll be my brother,” he replied, making the man’s brows raise a little. “You can call me Bambam. That’s the name that family uses.”

The king cast a look to Yugyeom, then nodded and gestured to the chair across from him. Bambam took his seat, Mark and Jackson on either side of him. Yugyeom trekked across the room to take his seat beside the king. As he passed, Jaebeom murmured to him, “You look  _ lovely _ , your highness.” 

He suppressed a smile at the way the king turned pink and aimed a kick at his general. 

“We aim to finish talks of trade today,” Jackson started. The council across from him nodded, looking perfectly amenable to not having to spend another whole day in this same room with these same people rehashing the same numbers. “And when that’s finished, we’d like to discuss the marriage agreement.”

The king tensed. His hand twitched as if ready to reach across and take Yugyeom’s, but it never made it across the gap. “Which part of it?” he asked evenly. 

“Time frame,” he replied easily. “Invitations. Where His Highness will stay while preparations are made. Accommodations to be made for him when he’s here.” As he went on, the king’s frown deepened and he glanced away. It wasn’t an unhappy frown so much as a thoughtful one. “These are all things we’d like to discuss when the trade is finished and settled upon.”

Most of it was done, which was likely why Jackson brought it up now. They could stretch the days out a little longer if they made sure nothing was drawn to a close too quickly. As Mark began the argument he’d been in again from the day before, Yugyeom chanced a look to his left. He wondered now if perhaps this  _ was _ a decision he made without quite enough thought. 

As predicted, the last of the negotiations didn’t take long. It was still early for lunch by the time both monarchs had signed their halves of the treaty - enough food to last the winter, blankets and clothes that would keep the people warm through the cold season, and seeds that would come in the spring for planting. And from the other side, a thief’s wage of metal and gems and one prince’s hand. 

“Shall we break for lunch and reconvene after?” Youngjae called brightly. The king had barely spoken since the morning. “It’s a bit early, but we’d like to confer a little among ourselves before the arrangements.”

Bambam nodded, getting to his feet. “Of course. we’ll return to our suite of rooms for now and meet in a few hours?”

Youngjae nodded and Yugyeom half stood, then halted, confused. Who was he supposed to be with now? The king hadn’t said anything. He’d spent much of the meeting leaning all the way to his other side and murmuring softly with his general, which would be a much worse sign if the general didn’t keep throwing amused looks across at Yugyeom. 

“I’ll- I’ll go with my brother,” Yugyeom said, meaning it to sound like a statement and unable to keep it from ticking up at the end to a question. 

A beat of silence and then a nudge to the king, who stood abruptly. “Yes. Yes, that would be best. I’ll see you in two hours, Prince.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” He tipped his head, giving him a small smile as he started to skirt past him and out of the room. 

None of them spoke as they filed out and were led back to their suite of rooms to have a private lunch there. Bambam fell dramatically into a chair, Yugyeom sinking down beside him. “He was so shaken by that. Did he not think we were going to want to discuss anything?”

“Maybe he assumed that the decisions would all be on his side, since he’ll be responsible for the wedding,” Jackson suggested, rearranging the king to get an arm around him. “Or maybe, you know, he doesn’t know a lot about royal weddings? There haven’t been many lately that I’ve heard about.”

“Who doesn’t know what goes into a wedding?” Bambam grumbled, long limbs splaying across his personal guard. 

“Someone who didn’t plan this out intentionally,” Mark replied softly. 

The door opened before anyone could continue on and a few servants filed into the room with food. One stood apart and gave them all a bright smile before the others filed back out. He bowed and finally spoke, “Good afternoon, your majesty, your highness. My name is Jisung. Since you’ll be staying, Master Jaebeom has chosen a rotation of personal guards for you unless you prefer to have just one.” He looked too young to be any kind of guard, personal or otherwise, but Yugyeom shook his head anyway. They were all rewarded with a chubby-cheeked smile. “Great! Would you prefer for me to wait here or in the hall?”

Yugyeom looked to his brother, then Jackson, and finally Mark. “Ah… In here is fine, I guess? Or. Wait-”

“In here is fine,” Jackson assured him. “Come sit with us. Can you get together the others in rotation after dinner tonight? I’d like to meet with you and pass some things on.”

He narrowed his eyes frowning tightly. “I don’t want you to pass anything on,” Yugyeom said firmly, poking at something he didn’t recognize with a fork and giving it a sniff. “You’re gonna tell him stupid things.”

“I’m going to tell him how to get you up in the mornings and what to watch out for when you’re being a brat.”

“ _ Yeah _ , I don’t want them to know that,” he pouted, prompting a laugh from the others at the table. 

They should have been discussing what they needed to talk with the Parks about, but instead, it devolved quickly into laughter and shouting as Jackson started telling any embarrassing story of Yugyeom he could come up with to make the guard laugh and the prince whine.The food was long gone by the time they slowed their teasing and time was nearly up. They would have to go to back to negotiations soon to discuss the wedding. Yugyeom wasn’t looking forward to it, necessarily. 

Once the food and distractions were gone, he turned to his plate, fiddling with leftover piece of the thing he didn’t recognize. (Jisung had told him it was a potato, but it was  _ purple _ , so he didn’t trust that one bit. He’d never seen one like that and so would not be eating it, thank you very much.) 

“Gyeomie?” Mark asked, leaning a little closer. “You okay?”

Jackson cleared his throat in an unsubtle attempt to remind them they weren’t supposed to be looking  _ couple-y _ in front of staff from the castle. When Yugyeom glanced up, Jisung was looking between the three of them with wide eyes, but nothing calculating was in them. 

“I’m nervous,” he said honestly. He reached over and snagged his brother’s hand to give his own something to do. There were plenty of rings to play with on his fingers. “This is scary - and sudden. I used up all the bravery I had on the first day and everything’s been  _ weird _ since I agreed to marry him.”

“He’s just trying to make a good impression,” Jisung said sympathetically. When the four of them turned to him he sat up abruptly, as if only just realizing what he’d said. “I mean- you’re going to be his husband, right? I’d be nervous too. You’re really handsome, and you seem really nice and you must be smart if you’re involved in all the negotiations instead of some old guy with thirty years of arguing under his belt.” When that made Yugyeom smile a little, he powered on. “His majesty met with lots of suitors and had lots of people court him before he took the throne. His parents kept trying to set things up for him and he kept saying no, so I guess he likes you, right?”

“Right,” Mark said, sitting back and looking a little smug. 

Yugyeom pulled a face at him. “That’s  _ one _ person agreeing with you, it doesn’t make you right.”

“Two people,” Bambam corrected. 

“Three people,” Jackson added. 

“Okay!” he sighed, pushing Bambam’s hand away only to have his own taken back. “Enough, fine. I get it. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s weird for me, and kind of hard, you know? It’s a big change.”

“We didn’t want you to do it,” Jackson reminded him, then seemed to abruptly remember Jisung was there and shot him a look. “I mean- We weren’t sure- We wanted-”

“It’s okay, I get it,” Jisung offered, nodding. His eyes flicked to Mark. The rumor must already be going around. “It’s a big change. His Grace came from a long way away too, and one of our guards, and a boy in the kitchens, and I lived far away with family for a while too. It’s not easy to leave someone behind or to let them go.”

Another silence fell. Yugyeom chewed at his lip and then finally said, “Jisung, you don’t- I know you think that I’m already with someone.” Jisung’s lips pressed together, eyes falling to the table. “But I need for you to understand that it’s a rumor based on a mistake. Do you understand that?”

“What’s the mistake?” he asked. His words sounded careful, worried, like he was afraid someone would get in trouble. 

“We’re not upset,” Mark clarified. “It’s our fault that there was a mistake in the first place. The prince struggles to sleep alone, and close family or friends are best suited to stand in.”

Jisung watched them for a moment, unsure. “So you just… You just have someone to sleep in your bed?”

They all nodded. Bambam tugged at his hand a little more. “It’s my bed sometimes. Well, my bed often, but I can’t share a bed all the time. I sleep better on my own, so we have Mark or Jackson step in.”

He nodded slowly, but a frown pulled at his lips, brow furrowing down. “But then… When you leave…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Yugyeom assured him. “But for now, please just don’t spread that rumor, or if you hear about it try and find… something else to talk about? I don’t know. I just- I don’t want this deal to fall apart before it really begins because of a mistake.”

He nodded again, slower now. His mouth opened to reply again, but there was a tap on the door and they turned to see Woojin peeking inside and giving them all a smile. He greeted the room, then went on, “It’s time to join the others again. I’ll be sitting in this time, since we’re no longer talking about trade. Ready?”

The pause as they tried to discern if they were ready. Finally, Bambam stood and gave him a nod. “We are. Thank you.”

Jisung looked thoughtful as he followed them out of the room, but Yugyeom was already distracted now that he was on his way to discuss his wedding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on twitter and curiouscat! @6uglyguysandjae


	3. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding date is set. Yugyeom's family can't stay forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm catching up to myself here concerningly fast. Not a fan. Thanks as always to @hardstansonly for looking this over for me~

For the first time, they were the first ones to arrive in the room. Yugyeom hesitated as they took their seats, unsure which side he was supposed to sit on now. It set him off kilter to sit on the side he was being taken to when they were discussing the terms of that taking. He shuffled in place for a moment, only taking a seat when Jackson took him by the elbow and led him to the chair beside his brother. 

“We’ll wait for the king and the other advisors,” Woojin assured them. “They’ll be along shortly, I’m sure.” The smile he gave them was soft and kind, and enough to settle a few of the bubbles of worry in Yugyeom’s stomach. He went on, “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, your highness. Are you still drinking the remedy?” 

His nose wrinkled. “No. It’s bitter.”

Woojin laughed, as did Mark. “Well, stay away from cats, then I suppose. If you need it, you only have to ask and it’s yours.”

The door opened as he spoke and the king and his procession filed in. He paused at the sight of Yugyeom across the table but took his seat anyway. There were fewer advisors this time, and only one had been sitting in on the trade agreements aside from Youngjae. 

When everyone was seated and greeted, Woojin nodded to the boy at the table acting as scribe and began. “Alright. Where shall we begin, then? What is most important?”

“The date,” Bambam said firmly, looking to his opposite. For the trade, he had been sitting away from the table, removed enough to observe but near enough to step in when he intended to weigh in. For this, he sat at the center, across from Bambam and between Woojin and Youngjae. “How soon will the ceremony be held?”

His eyes flickered away from Bambam to Yugyeom, then back again. “At least a month will be necessary to send out the invitations and make sure the travel can be made for the guests, maybe more.” 

Bambam’s shoulders relaxed a little and he nodded. “Would three months be acceptable? It would be time for us to travel back, make sure everything is in order in my country, and return for the ceremony.”

The other king relaxed a little too, as though he had been prepared for a blow and the fist he’d been expecting to hit him was released. “Three months is more than enough. There’s no rush for this. We have all the time we need.” 

Bambam nodded again. “Good. Then you won’t mind if Yugyeom returns with us and is brought back for the ceremony.”

It was like seeing a cat’s hackles rise up, or a dog’s fur stand on end at the sight of a threat, the way that Jinyoung’s body drew up again. Youngjae stepped in before he could speak. 

“I hope you understand that, with the given history of arranged marriage between our countries, we ask that he stays here in the interim between now and the ceremony.” He looked apologetic, friendly, but the way his king’s expression had turned blank tore right through it. 

“And I hope  _ you _ understand that we did not come here with the intention of leaving anyone, least of all my brother.” Bambam turned his eyes on the king again. “Will he not see his country again, then?”

Youngjae’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by even, steady words. “He’s not a prisoner,” the king said firmly. “He won’t be locked in a tower after the wedding. My intention is not to have a  _ prize _ , it is to have a husband.” He flicked a look to Yugyeom. “Did your mother never see her home country again after she married?”

Yugyeom couldn’t help the way his teeth sank into his lip, but he shook his head. “No, she didn’t. We didn’t. My step father didn’t let any of us leave the country’s borders.” He’d always seen every country as an enemy or a potential one, all Yugyeom’s life. Perhaps that’s how they made it into the position they were in. Yugyeom had been too young to remember it when they left the place he was from. He only knew it in drawings and maps and stories from his mother. 

The king’s brow drew down just a touch, lips tugging into a frown. He turned back to Bambam. “Our countries will be allies and we’re already neighbors. The Prince should be safe on either side of the border, and will be free to come and visit as he pleases, a few times a year if he wants. However, until the ceremony, I believe it would be best for him to remain here.”

Bambam took a deep breath, turned the ring on his finger. This was the hard part. None of them thought they could win it, but they also knew they couldn’t give up without trying. “We’re understanding of the wariness, but we are not our country’s past mistakes. The prince will return for the ceremony with no issue and will bring with him all of his personal effects.”

Youngjin started again, but halted when the king sat forward. “The prince will remain here until the ceremony. I do not intend to marry a stranger. This is not a decision made on the back of past mistakes, but on the hope of knowing the man I intend to wed.” He turned to him again, face still blank but some shred of  _ something _ in his eyes that Yugyeom wasn’t familiar enough with him to identify. “Will you stay? Or will I have to wait for our wedding night for you to speak to me?”

Stunned silence met his question, from every corner of the room. No one moved, they barely breathed. Finally, Yugyeom nodded, just barely. “I’ll st-” He stopped, cleared his throat when his voice caught in it. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you. I don’t… I don’t want to marry a stranger either.”

His face didn’t change much, but the little movements in it felt like a wash of relief. The king sat up again, hands spread over the table. “Good. Then the Prince will stay here for three months while we prepare. What’s next, then? Invitations?”

It took the better part of the day for them to work through the remainder of the bullet points. The invitations would serve as an announcement of the treaty between their countries, and their allies would be expected to honor that by attending. The list was decided who would be invited, although it was heavier on nobility within their own kingdoms than outside invitations. 

Next came accommodations. Did Yugyeom have servants they would be sending? No, he didn’t. Were there any positions he had special need to inform? Yugyeom had to work not to look at the others and hoped no one outed his need for a bedmate. No one did. The rotation of three guards was more than fine but could the kind guard near his room be among them? Yes he would like to keep the valets who were currently attending him. The only real hiccup came on a topic Yugyeom hadn’t even thought they’d be discussing. His  _ wedding attire _ . 

Jinyoung had a tailor employed at the castle he wanted to use for both of their suits, to ensure they would match properly. Bambam insisted on sending his own personal tailor, who knew Yugyeom’s sizes and preferences and had the cloth and accessories traditional to his family for the wedding. They would send him along with Yugyeom’s effects and he would return with them. Jinyoung insisted it wasn’t necessary. Bambam was adamant that it was. Woojin stepped in and called the argument to a stop before it could get too heated. He asked Yugyeom. 

Shrinking in his seat, he confessed that he’d like to see his tailor again and have him at the wedding. It only made sense for him to come if he was making his clothing, and maybe it would be nice for the tailors to work together and design complementary attire that could represent the unity of their kingdoms? 

It was a tense few moments, but finally, both kings were appeased and he blew out a breath. 

Youngjae and Woojin both gave him a discreet thumbs up and Mark’s warm, pleased smile made him feel like he had done something good, at least. Even if it was just deciding who would decide what he would wear. 

\--

When night came, it was Jackson who came into Yugyeom’s room. Dinner had been uneventful, compared to the day before, and while Yugyeom’s valets were once again cautiously cool, they both halted at the sight of their guest’s personal guard slipping into the room of someone he was not guarding. Jackson, as usual, seemed unphased. 

He smiled brightly as he greeted the both of them and then climbed onto the bed to swing an arm around Yugyeom and drag him down. “Good night, Hyunjin. Good night, Seungmin,” he called cheerfully, ignoring Yugyeom’s struggling against his arm and the protests muffled into the blankets. By the time he released the prince, the valets were both gone. 

“Why do you have to make a scene like that?” Yugyeom whined, shoving at Jackson but then laying against him, curled against his chest. 

“Maybe if Mark had made a scene, it would have been less suspicious for him to come crawling into your bed, hm?” he countered. His brows raised, fingers poking at Yugyeom’s sides just enough to make him squirm. “Besides, that’s what I do.”

Yugyeom hummed, but tucked himself a little closer now that there were no fingers tickling his sides. Silence managed to fall for just a moment, a rarity with he and Jackson, or with Jackson and anyone. It wasn’t Jackson that broke it, though. 

With a small voice, Yugyeom asked, “Jackson?” The  _ hm _ he got back prompted him on but he paused before continuing. “Do you think… do you think I should keep it up?”

“Keep what up?” he asked. His voice was soft to match the tone of Yugyeom’s now. The joking and the teasing were gone and the fingers that moved against Yugyeom’s skin were comforting instead of needling. 

“That thing. I’m used to it, you know? The spoiled thing. I mean… I mostly just did it with the visitors and advisors and my step father, but it was easy because that’s what they thought I would be anyway and it made Bam look good if I looked bad, but… do you think it’ll help here at all?” 

Jackson hummed again. His fingers drew patterns in the dark as Yugyeom held onto him tightly. “I don’t think it’ll work. I think you’ve shown your hand already, little prince.”

Yugyeom tucked himself down, curling smaller. “I’m not little. You’re little.”

He gasped in indignation. “You take that back. I’m not little, you’re just a giant.” A smile tilted Yugyeom’s lips, but no one could see it. Still, he felt like Jackson must know about it. Nevertheless, he went on. “As I was  _ saying _ . You showed you hand to all of those advisors the moment you were knowledgeable, and you doomed yourself to being responsible and mature when you were the one to step up and tell the king that you accepted his proposal. I’m afraid your days of being a brat will now just have to be because that’s who you are.”

It was Yugyeom’s turn to let out an indignant noise. “I’m not a brat! I have  _ purpose _ to those things.”

“Like you had purpose when you made Bambam eat that greasy thing from the town the kitchen boys brought in? With all the milk?”

“He deserved it,” Yugyeom sniffed. “He made me eat spicy food.”

Jackson laughed, hearty, but soft enough to suit the darkness. “I’m sure he did. But what I’m saying is that you don’t have to give up being you, Yugyeom, and that part of you has never been all an  _ act _ . You’re allowed to have fun, to play. It could do this place some good. You just don’t need to go out of your way to do more just to fuel some rumor or to make someone else look good or give someone refuge. You’re going to be the husband of a king, Yugyeom. Your power won’t have to come from manipulating the way people see you, it will come from position.”

Silence again. Yugyeom pressed his face down against Jackson’s chest. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the prince’s hair. 

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Both hands slid up, holding Yugyeom’s face in his palms and tilting him up. In the dim light, he could just make out the glint of light caught in Jackson’s eyes. “But I’m never far from you, yeah? I love you, little brother. No distance will be far enough to change that.”

Yugyeom nodded again and tucked his face down into the man’s chest. They didn’t speak again through the night, but Yugyeom slept the night through wrapped in his arms with Jackson’s breath fanning across his skin. 

When he woke again, it was to Jackson’s rough voice speaking into his ear, promises of warm chocolate and sweet, fluffy breads for breakfast. His waking practices were always much kinder when they were sharing the bed. He smiled when he saw the prince’s eyes crack open, running fingers through his fluffy hair. 

“Good morning. Your valets are here to tell us we have to wake up,” he told him. 

Yugyeom grumbled and tucked his face down again until soft fingers started to warn of impending tickles on his side. He groaned louder and sat up, prompting a laugh from Jackson, followed by a swift peck to the forehead before he darted out of the bed and the room. 

“How did you sleep, your highness?” Hyunjin asked, still sounding a little too polite. 

He grumbled softly, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand and pulling his legs up. “Okay. Better than last night.” He curled down and pressed his face into his knees. “They’re going to leave soon.”

The movement around the room stopped. After several moments, Hyunjin spoke again, this time more sincerely. “I’m sorry, prince. I hope you’ll find a way to be happy here after all.”

“I will,” he said softly. His fingers gripped the legs of his pajamas. “I know you think I’m lying about Mark, but even if I was with him, he’s going to be gone and I’ll be faithful to your king and I promise I’ll be helpful in ruling and I’ll be kind to you so please don’t hate me. You’re the only people I know here. Please,  _ please  _ don’t hate me.”

“We don’t hate you,” Seungmin said firmly. A warm hand pressed to his back and each of his valets took up on one of his sides, but Yugyeom didn’t look up. He was pretty sure it was Hyunjin’s hand, but he wasn’t going to check. “We couldn’t hate you, prince. You didn’t come here with plans to marry, so it stands to reason that you would have taken lovers before. It means a lot to us, to the whole kingdom, that you would give something like that up.”

It wouldn’t matter if he told them it wasn’t true now. He would have to concede that fight. At least if they were going to view it as a mighty sacrifice, he wouldn’t feel like he was about to be persecuted for a relationship he’d never had. 

“Let’s get you up and dressed for the day, hm? There’s a lot to do.”

Yugyeom grumbled, but let the pair of them jostle and cajole him up onto his feet and into a new outfit today, all soft materials and light colors that made him feel a little less heavy. Hyunjin bullied him into make up, calling it war paint and telling him he couldn’t cry today because then he would be crying off all of his hard work and that would be tragic. It was enough to make him smile and he supposed that was the point. 

There was a light knock on the door and when Seungmin answered it, the curly haired guard, Chan, popped his head in with a bright smile. “Morning, your highness!” he called brightly, despite not looking like he had known a night of sleep in his life. “Are you ready to head down to breakfast?”

He nodded and thanked his valets as he got up to head for the door. Chan was in the hall with the others, waiting for him. Bambam took one look at him, hands full of jewelry once again, and sighed deeply before retreating to his room again. 

“Bam, really?” Jackson called, following him into the room. 

“What’s happening?” Chan asked, frowning and looking between the door, Mark, and Yugyeom. 

“The prince isn’t wearing what the king had planned for,” Mark told him, an amused smile on his lips. “He has to get different jewelry to match the clothing.”

Yugyeom sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. “I don’t  _ need _ jewels,” he whined. “I’m comfortable, I don’t want to wear a bunch of jewelry.”

Bambam came back out, hands less full than before, but still with more in them than Yugyeom wanted. “I’m still your king,” he said contritely, handing him a pair of earrings to put in and passing the necklace to Mark. “You have to do what I tell you.”

“When you started saying that, it was because you were my brother,” he grumbled.

He took his hands when he finished putting the earrings in, sliding rings onto his fingers and fastening bracelets around his wrist. “It’ll go back to that when you’re married here, don’t worry. But now the time I have to say that stuff is limited, so I have to say it.”

Yugyeom scowled at him, prompting him to press a thumb to his forehead hard enough to push him back. “Don’t do that, you’ll have wrinkles before your wedding day. Let’s go to breakfast.”

In protest, Yugyeom scowled harder and tried to tell himself he wasn’t pouting as he rubbed at his forehead. Bambam was in the front, leading their way now that they didn’t need a guide through the corridors, which put Chan at his own side now. 

“Where’s Jisung?” he asked. 

Chan looked up, startled. “Oh, we’re on rotation. You’ll always have someone with you and someone on stand by and then one man can take some time to do other duties or get some rest. Changbin will be by this afternoon and I’ll make sure I have some time to be with you when you meet him so it’s an easy transition.”

“Ah. Did you get to meet with Jackson last night after all?” 

He nodded, curls bouncing with the movement. “We did. He told us the simplest ways to wake you up, which didn’t seem very nice but made a lot of sense, and gave us some tips on what to do when you’re down or places you might like around the castle.”

Yugyeom was sure there was more told to them than that, but they also were probably told not to tell him everything Jackson said. Unfair, to say the least. 

Breakfast was uneventful. The king and his small entourage were there already and Yugyeom took the seat at his side and ate quietly. They moved together to the room negotiations had been held in for the last several days and the list of guests to be invited was settled upon. Yugyeom didn’t care much who came, since he didn’t have a lot of friends in the nobility around his kingdom and had none outside of it. It was largely a political matter, which meant he had little care or interest.

When he realized there was nothing left to discuss, not really, fear spiked through him and Yugyeom tensed in the silent room. When Woojin spoke, he closed his hands in his lap tightly. 

“Is that all there is to discuss, then?” he asked, smiling at the group across the table. “There is more to consider, of course, but all that will be decided closer to time, food and music and flowers.” He didn’t seem to notice the way Yugyeom’s body was curling in on itself. Or maybe he did and was at as much of a loss on how to fix it as anyone would be. Maybe Yugyeom had stopped registering his words after that, though, his breath coming faster and nails digging into his palms. Maybe the world was turning surreal, distant, whether anyone was speaking or not.

A hand slid over, gripping his arm with the thumb soothing over his jacket. Yugyeom blinked a few times, trying to swallow down the looming knowledge that if this was  _ over _ , they would have to go back. He focused on the hand gripping his arm. Long, thin fingers decorated in rings, sun warmed skin, tinted nails. Bambam. Who would do this for him when he didn’t have Bambam or Mark or Jackson around? Who would do this when he was here alone? Did his guards know how lonely he got? Did they know how he got into his own head and couldn’t get out of it sometimes? Would they feel comfortable coaxing him back into this world? 

He didn’t know for how long he sat there, but eventually, the world scrambled and there was a loud scraping noise. It didn’t register right away that the chair he was in was moving. Hands pressed to the sides of his face and pulled him up to look into warm, dark eyes. 

“Are you with me, Gyeomie?” Mark asked, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. 

“You’re not supposed to,” he started, but the sentence died in his throat. Were there even still in the room with other people? A different hand was closed around the back of his neck, warm and sure and firm. That and the ones on his face and Mark’s solid gaze were enough to steady his breathing again. 

“I’m supposed to keep you safe and sound,” Mark told him, leaving no room for question. “Sound means you need to have your mind firmly in your body. Are you back with us?” He nodded. “Good.” Sitting up again, Mark tousled his hair just a little only for Bambam to tsk and nudge him aside to fix it. 

When Yugyeom looked up again, he was horrified to see his betrothed and advisors watching him. His cheeks flushed with humiliation and he started to get up. The hand on the back of his neck held him firm, however, with or without Mark’s pulling him back to the earth. 

Jackson loosened his grip just a little, but didn’t let him go. “Our apologies,” he said carefully. “Leaving your home isn’t easy. The prince is… He’s nervous. That’s understandable, I’m sure.”

“Of course,” the king said, but his voice sounded unsure, hesitant. 

“Yugyeom and I haven’t been apart in many years,” Bambam said softly. His hand found Yugyeom’s and laced their fingers. “It will be hard for both of us, but harder for him, I’m sure.”

Silence fell over the room for a moment before Youngjae was finally the one to lean forward. “It will be hard, but, Prince, you’ll be cared for here too. I swear it.”

Another long moment of silence. The king stood, crossing the room and finding Yugyeom’s free hand. For the first time, he gripped his hand entirely, lacing their fingers together. Yugyeom didn’t realize he was teary until he looked up at the man’s blurry face. 

“My intention is for you to find a home here,” he told him softly. “I know that this will be hard, and I regret how much it will hurt you, but I hope that you can find some joy in it when it’s all said and done.” He turned again, still gripping Yugyeom’s hand as he spoke to the others. “Jaebeom, make sure that everything will be set for the king’s journey home. If it’s alright with everyone, a few more days of rest for the horses will give the prince a little more time to settle and feel more comfortable, I hope. Youngjae, see to it that invitations are ready to go out one week after their departure. The date will be set for three months from that date.” He looked again to Bambam. “Is that acceptable?”

“More than,” he agreed, inclining his head. “We’re grateful.”

He nodded again and seemed prepared to leave, his hand loosening on Yugyeom’s until he was met with a tighter grip and looked back down at his betrothed. 

“Thank you,” Yugyeom whispered. He was teary, but they hadn’t fallen yet. 

He sighed, just a little, and brushed his thumb under his eye although there were no tears yet, just the same mole that had lived there all his life. “You are not my prisoner, Prince,” he reminded him. “I don’t want you trapped in a gilded cage.”

He gave his hand a tug and when it was released, he swept from the room quickly, leaving Yugyeom reeling and unsure where he stood after all.

\--

The date was set. The night came and Yugyeom stayed with Bambam again. The next few days were bittersweet. Bambam stayed glued to his side, refusing to leave him for even a moment. They took meals with the king and his attendants. Yugyeom finally met the third guard in his rotation, Changbin. Youngjae showed them the library at Mark’s request. Jackson managed to convince Jaebeom into a play duel and all of them, the general included, laughed as he put him on his ass. It was friendly. It was nice. 

Then it was over. 

Yugyeom pretended he wasn’t crying as he stood on the steps of the castle, watching his brother and the only two friends he knew without a doubt were his friends get into a carriage that would take them nearly a month’s journey away from him. He took in a shuddering breath as the horses started to move. Goodbyes had been said, hugs given and cheeks kissed. 

Yugyeom stood stiffly on the steps until they were out of sight, refusing to look away even as Youngjae and Jaebeom asked him to come inside, after Chan and Changbin and Jisung offered to take him to a sitting room for a cup of tea. When fingertips brushed over the back of his hand he finally looked up from the disappearing carriage to see the king at his side. His hand slipped into Yugyeom’s and held it tightly. 

“If I have a chair brought out, will you sit in it?” he asked, voice soft. 

He stared at him for a moment, then looked at the ever-shrinking carriage in the distance. Soon, it would turn along the path and disappear into the trees. 

“No,” he said thickly. “I can go inside soon.”

The king nodded, still holding his hand and making no motion to try and move him. “Would you like some tea?” he tried. 

The carriage turned the corner. The horses moving at its side turned with it. Yugyeom let out a sob and covered his teary face with his free hand. A moment later, he was being wrapped up in a hug, his face pressed down against a shoulder with a hand in his hair tucking him down. He didn’t care that it was a king he was crying on. He had cried on kings before, and if he was to live here, this one would have to get used to it too. 

It wasn’t until later, when he was pried away and realized he had been led inside somehow, that he found it interesting that the stranger he was marrying was kind enough to let him ruin his court finery with makeup and tears. 

“Are you feeling better?” he asked. The king raised a hand like he might wipe away the tears but it dropped again, as though he was afraid he would overstep some boundary. As though there was a boundary to overstep still when Yugyeom could see the damp patch on his jacket. 

Yugyeom didn’t answer, accepting a handkerchief from Chan and wiping messily at his face. He probably had dark, muddy smudges all over his face. He knew he was blotchy, his eyes bright red with crying. He felt disgusting. He couldn’t tell the king that. 

The king took a deep breath, like he was trying to figure something out. “What do you need?” he asked. 

“Time,” Yugyeom choked out. 

He nodded, casting about for something to say and finally giving up and standing. “Then you will have it, Prince.” 

Yugyeom nodded, but didn’t look up to watch him go. He didn’t look up when the door opened, or check to see what was going on when it took so long to close. He didn’t know how long he sat there, trying to will himself to be numb in a sitting room he’d never been in. Someone came in and settled tea in his line of sight, promised it was made the way he liked it. He didn’t drink it. He was afraid if he moved an inch, he would break down again and no one would be here to put him back together. 

A hand finally fell on his shoulder, giving him a little shake. Hyunjin, giving him a worried look. “Your highness, are you okay?” Both Chan and Changbin stood behind him, concern in their eyes. 

Yugyeom’s lip wobbled, but he managed to shake his head and wipe at his eyes again. 

“Why don’t you come upstairs and try to get some rest? Even if you don’t sleep, it’ll be better in your bed and no one will bother you.”

Stiffly, he managed to stand and he allowed his valet and guards to guide him through the castle numbly. The stone walls felt heavy and cold. He wished he had drank the tea when it was offered. His head ached from crying and his lips felt dry and chapped. Had he eaten? He had eaten breakfast with his brother, but it wasn’t much. He couldn’t hold anything down. Was it night already?

They reached his room and he ducked in to find Seungmin already there. He allowed himself to be undressed and redressed for bed and then Chan, who was frowning in concern, managed to guilt him into drinking several full cups of water before Seungmin and Hyunjin tucked him into bed. 

“Sleep well tonight, prince,” Seungmin said softly. “I know that sleeping on your own will be hard, but do your best. You need some strength back or you’ll cry yourself sick.” 

Yugyeom didn’t answer. 

He also didn’t sleep. 

The fear of the first night was gone, but the loneliness remained. He wondered if the other rooms had been cleaned already. Were the sheets washed? If he stole a pillow from the beds where the others had slept, would they smell like them? Would he feel less alone? 

When he peeked into the hallway to go check, no one was there, but it was also dark. He didn’t know how late it was, and he didn’t want to go stumbling around in the dark looking for the door handles for empty rooms. He didn’t know where Chan had gone, but he was sure he was occupying a room nearby and keeping an ear out and Yugyeom didn’t want to find out how talented the guard was in the darkness. 

It wasn’t like he would be able to sleep anyway. 

His body felt heavy as he dragged a chair to the window and watched the world sleep below him. His eyes burned as he tried to see the difference in the stars here as opposed to his home. He grew cold as he stared at the moon and hoped his brother was looking at the same one. He cried again as the sun came up and the first day since his mother remarried where he was alone began. 

Hyungjin and Seungmin found him in the chair in the morning and scolded him for not sleeping, then scolded him for not bundling up if he was going to sit at the window, then scolded him again for crying and not drinking more water. It was awful to be there, but it was nice to be scolded. It meant someone cared. He didn’t mind it. 

He let the valets dress him again and fuss over his hair. There wasn’t much they could do for his make up, but they did their best, with lightly lined eyes and rouged cheeks, then sent him out into the hall again. Jisung greeted him with a hopeful smile, but he couldn’t really give one back the way he wanted. The guard took him to breakfast, where Jinyoung was already there with Youngjae and Jaebeom. The seat he’d been in was occupied by the general. The one to his left was still open, the seat Yugyeom’s brother had been in. It was his now. 

The three of them stood when he entered and he gave them a mumbled greeting, sitting numbly in the chair. He looked like shit, he was sure, but after only a few moments of watching him carefully, the conversation picked up again. Yugyeom didn’t pay enough attention to register what it was about. 

He didn’t know for how long he sat in the chair, staring at his plate and poking at the food on it with a fork. He couldn’t really eat it, his stomach twisting into knots. He wasn’t sure if that had to do with the grief of missing his family or if it was because he hadn’t slept. He never ate well when he didn’t sleep. 

A hand covered his, pushing it to the table and forcing him to stop poking toast with a fork. He looked at it, then up the arm it was attached to and finally to the face of the king. 

“Prince, can you not eat?” he asked. His face was cool, unmoved, but there was a line beside his eyes that gave away concern, the barest downturn of his lips. 

“I didn’t sleep well,” he replied softly. Part of him wanted to take his hand back, this man was his  _ warden _ , he was keeping him trapped here, he was doing this to him. But he wasn’t doing this to him, had made no motion to force anything, and the warmth of his hand was soothing the bit of ache in his chest. “I don’t think I can.”

“Is there something you think you can stomach?” Youngjae asked. “We can have the kitchen make something up for you, whatever you’d like.”

“I don’t think so,” Yugyeom mumbled. His eyes turned back to the table.

There was a beat of silence, the king’s thumb brushing over his wrist. “Jisung can show you to the kitchens when breakfast is over. If you think of something and would like to ask for it, you can go there any time.”

“Jisung will be with me to show me, though,” he argued, looking up with a furrowed brow. 

The king’s head titled, eyes screwing up. “Not if you don’t want him there. This castle is your home and it’s safe. If you want to be alone, you’ll be alone enough. You have personal guards for your safety and your comfort. You won’t be alone because they will be there, that’s their job, and they’ll never be further than a room away, but if you ask them to leave, they will leave.”

“What if I don’t want personal guards at all?” he asked. He did want them. He liked all three of them, but he liked to know where he stood too. He wanted to test his freedom here even a little.

The king’s lips turned in a wry smile. “Some things are not up for debate.” He gave his hand a squeeze but didn’t pull away. “You can ask them to give you time alone, you can ask it every day, but they will be there to make sure you’re safe. As much as I- we would like you to be comfortable here, you will have to learn to be comfortable while being safe.”

He nodded slowly, then turned to where Jisung was shifting uncomfortably behind him. “I’m not going to try to get rid of you,” he assured him.

The boy’s lips twisted up into a hesitant, chubby-cheeked smile. “Thank you, your highness.”

He did his best to smile back and it felt a little hollow even to him. When he turned back around, the king was studying him. “If you’re lonely, you can come and find me,” he promised.

Yugyeom blinked at him, confused. “You’ll be busy. You’re a king.”

“I won’t be too busy for you.”

His cheeks warmed. It was impossible for him to be so intent upon Yugyeom. It was impossible for him to be this kind. Perhaps kindness wasn’t the right word. 

_ Doting _ , Mark’s voice intoned, almost smug, almost teasing. He willed it away and cleared his throat. “I will keep that in mind,” he assured the king, finally pulling his hand away and tucking both of them into his lap. 

There was a heavy moment of silence and then Youngjae cleared his throat as well. “Your majesty, are you ready to begin the day’s business?”

“Prince?” the king asked. 

Yugyeom’s head popped up, looking confused. “Yes?”

“Are you finished with breakfast?”

_ Why does that matter? _ “Um- Yes. I don’t think I can eat.” Jackson’s voice in his head now, telling him he needed to take care of himself. If you can’t sleep, you need to eat. If you don’t eat, you’ll have no energy. 

The king went on, “Would you like to join us? I think we’re going over…?”

“The distribution of assistance to the farmers for the fall,” Youngjae supplied, sounding amused. “I’m sure the prince will be very interested in it.”

Yugyeom pushed back a smile at the look that drew onto the king’s face. “No, thank you. I’m not feeling well. I may lie down for a little while today.”

Three sets of eyes peered at him critically, but finally Jaebeom nodded. “We’re never out of calling range,” he assured him. “If you need one of us, tell the guard that’s with you and one of us will be by your side in moments.”

He nodded, although he didn’t know how true that was. It seemed like his step father was always busy, never able to take a moment away to pay mind to anyone at all. Would it not be the same for this king? Bam was still new to it, it was hardly fair to use him for comparison. Since his coronation, though, it felt like most of Yugyeom’s talks with his brother had been about court business. 

Before he left, the king brushed his fingers over the back of Yugyeom’s hand and he tried to parse out what the meaning of that could be. If he wanted to touch him, why didn’t he just do it? What was Yugyeom going to say? No? 

Once they were gone, he heaved a deep sigh and got to his feet, not quite ready to begin the day. The day didn’t care, though. The day began whether it’s what he wanted or not. Yugyeom dragged his feet into it with as much vigor as he dragged himself into the engagement. 

After that, things didn’t pick up how he wanted. Over the next few days, he was left largely to his own devices. The king invited him to whatever he was doing each day, and Yugyeom refused it each day. To be fair, it sounded very boring. 

Maybe if he went with him, he could get some sleep, but he didn’t know if he wanted to give that impression to the people in this castle just yet. They already thought he had a lover when he came, he didn’t need them to think he was that spoiled as well. 

Still, he could barely choke down food with how tired he was. His nights were filled with restless tossing and turning and a complete inability to sleep. Once, Woojin came to check on him, which was confusing until he saw Chan’s face peering through the cracked door with worry. They played cards until Yugyeom fell asleep to Woojin’s voice telling him some story or other about the kitchen boy he’d met earlier that day, Felix. When Yugyeom woke up, it was to a dark room, empty hands, and a cold bed. 

It came to a head, as far as he was concerned, after four days. He still hadn’t met with the court tailor Youngjae kept offering to bring in, because every time someone asked if he was ready to meet with her, he told them he was too tired. It was at breakfast on that fourth day that Yugyeom nearly fell asleep at the breakfast table to the soothing sound of Jaebeom’s soft voice and Youngjae’s loud laugh, to the clatter of silverware and the awareness that someone, anyone, was there with him. 

A warm hand gripped his tight and gave a tug. “Prince?” the king asked softly. 

“Just sleepy,” he dismissed, blinking himself back to the world. His hand held tightly to the king’s. It was warm and he missed holding hands with someone. With anyone. He should have let Mark stay. 

“He hasn’t been sleeping much at all,” Jisung confessed. 

Yugyeom whipped around, shooting his guard with a look. “Tattletale,” he mumbled, which made the man shrink back a little

“What’s keeping you up?” Jaebeom asked, although he was looking at Jisung for answer. 

“I’m just not sleeping well,” he insisted. “Different surroundings.”

Jisung shifted, metal clinking, and Yugyeom didn’t know what he wanted to say, but he knew he was going to tattle on him. He didn’t know what for, but he knew instinctively that he was going to. 

“If you need to,” the king started carefully, “you could try taking a walk at night. You aren’t confined to your rooms and the guards are on rotation so that one is always awake. Perhaps it would help.”

It wouldn’t but Yugyeom offered the man a smile anyway. “Thank you, your majesty,” he nodded, giving the hand that still held his a squeeze. 

The king smiled back at him. “If you’re not busy today, perhaps-” 

“I have need of the prince today, actually,” Jaebeom said suddenly. The king’s head whipped around to look at him and Yugyeom felt a little bad for him, but a little grateful for the attention to be off of him. The general looked amused, though. Smug. 

The king’s face was turned away, but his voice was strained when he said, “What could you possibly have need of him for,  _ general _ ?”

Jaebeom’s smile grew a little wider. “Now, Jinyoung,” he teased, which called Yugyeom’s attention. He hadn’t heard anyone call him by his name aside from his brother, which made sense to him since neither of them had to defer to the other. Jaebeom, though, addressed him like… a friend. It soothed a few of the rough edges on Yugyeom’s nerves. Not to mention, he’s spoken across the king. The  _ king _ . It was strange to hear, but comforting.

“Jackson gave me some instructions on helping to make sure the prince stayed in shape while he was here.” His eyes drifted over to Yugyeom. “You don’t mind going through some steps with me, do you?”

With Jackson, he would have whined about it. He hated going through the paces of his workout regime. He hated being told what to lift or being made to do sit ups. Without his usual partners, he didn’t know who would help him stretch. He preferred to dance, and Jackson knew it, but of course he wouldn’t have told Jaebeom that and even if he did, it wasn’t the general’s job to provide the stage and music.

“No,” he told him, trying not to sound disappointed. 

“You don’t have to,” the king assured him.

“It’s what Jackson would want me to do,” he grumbled, slouching further in his seat and trying to pick at his breakfast. He would need some strength, after all, if he was going to be put through the paces of one of Jackson’s workouts. 

The king and his advisor left shortly after that, with the king’s eyes throwing concerned glances over his shoulder and Youngjae pressing a kiss to his husband’s temple. 

Once they were gone, Jaebeom turned to look at him again. His hands were folded on the table, but the look he was giving Yugyeom was soft. “Are you unable to eat because he makes you nervous?” he asked carefully.

Yugyeom’s brow pulled down. “What? No.”

Jaebeom nodded. His confusion must have been convincing. Since it was genuine, that was good. “Is there something I can do to make it easier?”

He frowned a little more. “I don’t understand.”

The general sighed, sitting back in his chair a bit. “I know that Jinyoung can come off a little… cold sometimes. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable, but he doesn’t know how to make that work, so I thought maybe it would be easier if I asked you.” When Yugyeom only continued to frown, he went on. “None of us want you miserable, Prince. I know that being without them will be hard, but if there are things that make you uncomfortable or things that are hard for you, you can tell me, even if you can’t tell Jinyoung. I’ll see to it that something is done.”

Yugyeom thought back to the cold bed, to the sleepless nights. He thought back to the valets cool attitude when they thought he was having an affair with Mark. His hands closed into fists. “Okay,” he said finally, but didn’t give him more to work with. 

It had only been a few days. He would get some sleep eventually. He couldn’t stay awake forever. 

Jaebeom waited a few more moments, but when Yugyeom didn’t go on, he sighed deeply. “Well. I suppose I should at least get you to work up a sweat, then. No reason to make myself a liar. Jisung, go and get the prince changed into something he can move around in, not court clothing. I doubt he brought much he could work in, so he may need to borrow something until we can new clothing made for him. I’ll gather what else is needed and meet you all on the terrace.”

Suppressing a whine, Yugyeom got up having eaten barely a piece of toast and let Jisung guide him back to his room. Hyunjin and Seungmin were already inside with a change of clothing for him, loose breeches that were a little too short, a fresh shirt (that he would ruin quickly, he was sure), and a pair of tall boots that looked like they were nearly new. 

“How did you gather these so quickly?” Yugyeom asked, tilting his head in confusion. 

Seungmin shared a smile with a glint in his eye. “Word travels quickly in a castle when it needs to,” he assured him. 

“These shoes belong to a servant,” Hyunjin confessed apologetically. “We’ll have new ones for you very soon, but nothing you have is something you can move in like the his grace would like, so we borrowed the newest pair we could find that seemed like the same size. I hope-”

“It’s okay, Hyunjin,” Yugyeom assured him, moving to the bed so he could drop his clothing on it as he started to undress. Jisung let out a yip and darted from the room. “I don’t mind.”

He looked uncertain, but he helped the prince change and laced the shoes up his calves. 

Yugyeom’s jewelry was off, but without something of it on, he felt naked. Disconnected from his kingdom of glittering jewels and fine metals. Once the shoes were removed, he let himself wander back to where the truly obscene amount of finery his brother had insisted on leaving was kept. It took a few moments, but he finally found a few things that made him feel a little more at home without getting in the way. Narrow bars of silver to dangle from his ears, a thin cord of silver close to his throat, a bracelet that wouldn’t impede his movement. Later, he would paint his nails, so that when he looked at his hands his first thought was Bambam. 

“Your highness?” Jisung’s voice asked, floating in through the gently cracked door. “Are you ready?”

Yugyeom tore himself from the vanity and moved to the door, pulling it open. Jisung nearly fell as the door was pulled from his grip. “I’m ready,” he sighed. Maybe the physical activity would help get his mind off of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that ending was alright for everyone. All the really good chapter breaks would have made this like 5k for a chapter and i didnt want to post something that much shorter than the other chapters
> 
> anyway come yell at me on twitter and curiouscat! @6uglyguysandjae  
> (Also i'm looking into doing a Jinyoung Book Club if anyone is interested? Hit me up on twitter! I have a handful of folks to join but the more the merrier!)


	4. Highs and Lows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yugyeom's time is nice. It's good. Maybe the king's not so bad. Or maybe he sucks. It's difficult to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so first off, I want to give everybody a heads up that the next chapter is the last one I have pre-written in it's entirety, and my dad is sick again. I'm not gonna leave this when that's posted, but there's a good chance I will have to put it on a short hiatus while we figure out what's going on with my dad and stuff. 
> 
> Second, this is my favorite chapter I hope you all love this very sappy scene.

Jisung walked him through the castle to a new place, somewhere he’d never been taken. The gardens. Yugyeom had asked about it when his brother was here, but they’d never made it down. The trades had taken up all of their time at first, and then all four of them had been too focused on being together to think about flowers. It seemed like a bad place for training, but he supposed it made sense. They wouldn’t take him down to where the soldiers trained, that made even less. 

When they arrived, Jaebeom was standing near a large bush of pink flowers Yugyeom had never seen before. Round little balls of tiny blossoms, with yellow ones in the center. Whatever the general said in greeting was lost on him as he came closer. 

“Prince?” he asked after a moment, pulling Yugyeom from staring at the pretty things. 

“Hm? Sorry. These are nice.”

Jaebeom laughed softly. “They are. You’ll have to take a walk around the gardens sometime if you like flowers, although I think the gardeners have been struggling with weeds recently.” 

He hummed in reply, then reached up to touch the petals of one of the flowers, soft against his fingertips. “What’s this called?” he asked. 

“Uh.” The general turned, giving a baffled look to the men standing behind him. Belatedly, Yugyeom realized they were starting to set up chairs. Was he to have an audience? He hoped not. “I’m not sure. We’ll find out soon, if you like?”

He shook his head, withdrawing his hand and struggling not to delve further into the gardens to see the other splashes of bright color in the beds. That would have to wait. “Maybe I can take a walk later with someone who knows the garden. What are we doing? Are you putting me through my paces?”

“Not quite.”

He turned to the group and gestured, which must have been a planned flair for the dramatic with the way they turned all at once to pull cases from their hiding places and settle at instruments. Behind them, hidden by Yugyeom’s own distraction and the fact that it sat just beyond an open set of glass doors, there was a man taking a seat at a piano. 

“What is this?” he asked, a little wary, his breath catching in his chest. 

Jaebeom reached out and, ignoring any protocol that likely told him not to touch the prince, tugged him gently to the center of the stone terrace. “Our musicians may not know the songs you’re familiar with, but a dancer should be able to cope, shouldn’t he? And to hear Jackson and Mark tell it, you’re a dancer at heart.” He took a step back, hands folded in front of him as he waited. 

Yugyeom looked at the musicians, waiting for their cue, then back to the general. “I don’t understand.”

The man watched him with sharp eyes, then wandered a little, pacing aimlessly around the terrace. “A man can work until his fingers bleed and his legs give out running from his troubles, but if it’s not work he loves then it will catch up again. I could put you through your paces and wear your body out, distract your mind, but I don’t think it’ll help in the long run.” He stopped, looked to the ground while his fingers turned a ring, turned to Yugyeom again. “The music may be different, but you must know that this kingdom is known first and foremost for the music and theatre we produce, not for the food we trade or the wars we fight. I’m told you love to dance. Music is something we can offer you, Prince.”

It hadn’t occurred to him that he would be able to dance here at all. It hadn’t occurred to him that he would be able to dance any time in the near future. He was rusty, hadn’t moved his body to perform in months, but the ache to do so came from a place that was too deep to wither. 

“Jackson told you?” he asked finally, running a hand through his hair and immediately getting the bracelet caught in the locks. 

Jaebeom nodded, taking a few steps forward to help him untangle his hand from his hair. “He told me you started dancing young and liked to practice alone more than dance in a ballroom with a partner. He told me you were fit for a stage, but your stepfather insisted a stage wasn’t fit for a prince and that not being on a stage didn’t do anything to make you stop loving it.” He pulled Yugyeom’s hand from his hair and looked at the bracelet to be sure it wasn’t broken. When he found no damage, he looked up at him. “I used to dance, too.” 

Yugyeom blinked at him, confused. “You did? When? Were you a performer?”

He shook his head. “No. My father told me it was a worthy pursuit, but not a career for nobility. Maybe sometime, we’ll dance together, but today I think your head could use music and movement and a little bit of solitude, hm?”

His teeth came down on his lip and he nodded, looking over to the band. The five of them sat, waiting patiently and murmuring amongst themselves. “I don’t know what to ask them to play,” he whispered. “I don’t know the music here.”

“Do you have something in mind that you would like?” Jaebeom asked gently. 

A half shrug. “Something… slow, I guess. Something that feels heavy. I don’t think I could dance to something bright right now.”

“Understandable.” The general left his side and headed for the group, taking the man with the stringed instrument aside to explain what Yugyeom wanted.

The music started, slow and baleful. Yugyeom didn’t know the song, but it felt like it knew him. His preferred way to dance, his preferred way to put things together, had always been more of a conversation than anything. 

The music spoke to him like an old friend. It was a little difficult to get going at first. Too many strangers involved, too long since they last spoke, but his feet found the words and his arms followed with them. Call and reply came first; the music spoke, and Yugyeom replied. Then they met on equal ground. They shared sentences, they knew what would come next. Lastly, the music let Yugyeom take the lead. He may not know the song, but he knew where it was going. He knew when a step needed to become a turn, he knew when the arch of his back had to melt into a bend. 

It was more than one song, it had to be, but Yugyeom couldn’t have told you where one ended and the next began. He couldn’t have pinpointed how many had even passed. Enough to make him breathless, to bring a comfortable ache into his muscles and for the beating sun to cover his skin in a thin layer of sweat. Finally, the music came to a stop, and Yugyeom stopped with it. 

He’d forgotten about the terrace. He’d forgotten about his audience. More importantly, he hadn’t seen it grow. 

Sitting at the little table in the shade was the king, along with Jaebeom and Youngjae. Woojin and another man were both at the table. All three of Yugyeom’s personal guards were behind them, as well as both of his valets, and a handful of people he didn’t recognize. If his cheeks weren’t so high with color already, Yugyeom might have blushed at the attention. 

Before he could finish catching his breath, the group erupted in applause, the servants and guards at the back clamoring with praise. The king stayed silent, but his smiled crinkled the corners of his eyes and the power of his claps looked like it must hurt his hands. 

This time, Yugyeom did blush, cheeks high with color or not. 

“That was beautiful, Prince,” Youngjae told him, hand pressed to his chest. “I didn’t know you danced.”

“I didn’t know I would be putting on a show,” he replied, looking down and scuffing the ground with the tip of his shoe. “I would have worn something nicer.”

The king stood, the others getting up with him, and crossed the stone to come closer. Again, his fingers brushed the back of Yugyeom’s hand, but he didn’t move to take it. “Nonsense. You look beautiful.” 

Yugyeom’s lips pressed tightly together. He didn’t know what expression he was hiding, but it certainly felt like it needed to be hidden from so many watchful eyes. “Thank you, your majesty,” he mumbled. 

A hand reached up and fingers tucked messy, sweaty hair behind his ear. His labored breath stuttered. When he looked up, the king was looking at him so softly it was almost painful. He felt trapped there, small in spite of how much taller he was, but after a few seconds he cleared his throat and pulled away a little, fanning the cotton of the shirt to get some air. 

“Ah, I uh. I came after my business from earlier was complete. Jaebeom says you were interested in the flowers?”

He turned, shooting the general a look to let him know he was a  _ traitor _ . He replied with a bright grin, which was not what Yugyeom wanted from him. “Yes, I was just… We don’t really have a lot of flowers at home. Even on castle grounds, things don’t grow as easily as they do here. The flowers are pretty.”

“Would you walk with me?” he asked. The question was almost hopeful. Yugyeom couldn’t parse out what it was that made him be like this, that made him want to spend time with Yugyeom so badly. His mother hadn’t spent so much time with his step-father, had she? 

He was broken from his thoughts by the soft tough again, this time to his back. He knew he was sweaty, probably disgusting. His muscles ached, he was tired from not sleeping. He must look a wreck. “In the gardens?” he asked, as if there were anything else he could mean. Of course the gardens, stupid. 

Still, the king smiled. “Yes, in the gardens. I like to come here when I’m tired or when I need to relax. I have since I was young. I may not know the name of every flower here, but these,” he guided Yugyeom to the pink flowers from before, “are called Lantana. They were brought over in ships ages and the seeds spread too far from where they were meant to be. They choked out other plants and took over for a time. They were a weed. My grandmother thought they were beautiful, though, so she convinced my grandfather to keep some in a bed nearby so they didn’t spread too far again.”

Yugyeom’s eyes were wide. He hadn’t expected  _ stories _ . He’d barely expected anyone to know their names. The gardens at home had no such stories, or at least none he’d known. He looked at the king, then turned and dashed to a smaller bed, one with little blue flowers spilling over the edge and taller white ones to the back. “What about these?” he asked, unable to contain the excitement. 

The king’s smile was somewhere between fond and indulgent as he followed after him. “The blue ones are Forget-me-nots. They’re my favorite. The white ones are lilies. Surely, you have lilies where you live.”

“I’ve seen them before,” Yugyeom conceded. “But I want you to tell me about them anyway. Do you have more stories? Like the other ones?”

“Like the lantana?” He shrugged, slinging his hands into his pockets and looking so casual, so informal, that Yugyeom almost forgot he was both fiance and the king. “Mm. We used to have a servant who was so allergic to the lilies she couldn’t go near the gardens. She would start sneezing if so much as a breeze rolled in from the door and she couldn’t work in any room we had cuttings in.”

“What happened to her?” Yugyeom asked, entranced. Part of him wondered if she resigned, but who resigned from a court position? He gasped softly “Was she fired?”

Jinyoung’s brows shot up. “Fired? No, no, she was moved to another residence.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Jaebeom’s residence, with his parents. They don’t have lilies, so there’s no problem. We traded for someone who didn’t have a problem.”

Yugyeom nodded, then turned quickly to another bed, filled this time with splashes of yellow. “What are these called?”

He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but Yugyeom had found some energy once again after the dancing. Maybe it was because he’d been able to move, to  _ do _ something, or maybe it was because he’d gotten a second wind. Either way, his ever-endless stores of energy opened up again for him to drag Jinyoung all through the gardens, asking about any plant that caught his eye and listening to every story that came with them. By the time the energy waned again, Youngjae was coming out to get them for the midday meal. 

The king’s small smile slipped away at the sight of his advisor coming toward them. Yugyeom wondered when he had started thinking of him as Jinyoung and why it was harder to think of him as anything but  _ the king _ when anyone was around.

“You don’t have to come in,” Youngjae assured them, catching the look on the other man’s face. “But you do need to eat. The prince did an awful lot today without eating much of anything and he needs to eat something now.”

“I should go inside after we eat,” Yugyeom sighed, fanning the shirt again. “I’m still sticky from before and it’s warm today. I should at least change clothes.”

“Perhaps after that, we can come back to the gardens again?” the king asked.

Yugyeom cut a look to Youngjae, who gave nothing away, and then tipped his head in the slightest of nods. “Um. Yes. Sure. We can do that.”

The king didn’t smile, not really, but the whiskers at the corners of his eyes reappeared and that made Yugyeom feel at least a little like he’d done something good. If it made the king so clearly pleased, even if he wasn’t smiling, it had to have been a good choice. Right?

Unfortunately, lunch didn’t go as well as the gardens had. Yugyeom took a seat and as soon as his feet were out from under him, his body seemed to lose all strength. It wasn’t sudden, not really. He’d been waning for a while, but the shade took the sun away and the chair took away the need to hold himself upright. The only thing that kept him from laying his head on the table and taking a nap was the plate of food sitting in front of him. 

He blinked stupidly at it, not recognizing what was on the plate right away. 

“Don’t you like rice, your highness?” a deep voice asked. He looked up into the frowning baby face of Felix, who had given him chocolate in the kitchen the day before with a wink.

“No, I do,” he assured him, nodding and picking up a spoon. His stomach twisted unhappily at the thought of eating something. No sleep, combined with no food from before, added to the movement he’d done meant he both should be hungry and couldn’t possibly eat a bite. 

“Prince?” Youngjae asked. 

“I’m just not feeling well,” he assured them, which was true. Still, under the heavy weight of the man at his side, Youngjae, and the king, he lifted a spoonful of rice covered in whatever sauce was on it and put it in his mouth. His stomach was unhappy, but the others seemed appeased. He was thankful for that, at least.

On the other hand, he had now broken the seal. Eating was hard, but once he’d done it, he sat forward a little more and systematically demolished the food on his plate. He was vaguely aware there was conversation happening around him, but he was starving, so he couldn’t spend any extra energy to figure out what was going on around him. 

When the plate was cleared, he sat back some, but now that his belly was full and his body had done work, he was ready to shut down. The day was warm. There was talking nearby, which meant people. He wasn’t alone. The chair was cushioned. His limbs felt heavy, but not heavier than his eyelids. 

There was no telling when he had closed his eyes, but he opened them when a slightly laughing voice called his name and a hand shook his shoulder. He opened them to see Youngjae smiling at him and the king at his side with a hand on him. 

“Perhaps you should take a rest instead of a walk, prince,” the king told him, amused. “You can go to your room and lie down for a while, if you like.”

“I won’t be able to sleep there,” he argued, unable to keep the whine out of his voice. He closed his eyes again. This was a better place for a nap. 

Hands took his arms and pulled at him, getting him to stand again, which pulled another whine from his lips. 

A laugh rang in his ear as an arm curled around his waist to heave him up and force his feet under him. “You can’t sleep out here, prince. You’ll get sick.”

“I can’t sleep upstairs,” he grumbled, pressing his face down into the shoulder of the man holding him up in a pouty attempt to butter them up, but he finally let them plant his feet on the ground and stood on his own power. The king looked up at him, a pretty flush on his cheeks and a fond smile on his lips. His arm was still curled around Yugyeom’s waist like he might need the help to stay on his feet. “I can stand up on my own now,” he said softly. 

“What if you fall asleep again?”

Yugyeom looked away, but did nothing to push the king away. He liked, maybe just a little, the way he felt against him. Or maybe he just missed being close to someone. 

With an enormous amount of effort, he pushed him away gently and cleared his throat. “I’ll be okay. I won’t fall asleep standing up. I was just tired, but I’m okay now. Heavy meals do that to me sometimes.”

The king nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Heavy meals for dinner, to help you sleep through the night.” He still looked worried as he studied Yugyeom’s face. 

After a moment of watching one another, his hand lifted and his thumb brushed under the prince’s eye. With a jolt of horror, Yugyeom realized that his makeup must have sweated off with the dancing, or maybe he was just close enough now to see the shadows underneath it. 

“What can I do to help you?” Jinyoung asked, voice a whisper. 

Yugyeom looked up at him and felt a guilty lurch. They were being kind to him. They were saving his people. But here he was, the spoiled prince, seemingly starving himself and looking tortured with sleep deprivation even as they gathered a band to be at his beck and call. “I’ll fix it,” he promised. 

“But what can I do to  _ help _ ?”

He cleared his throat and had to look away. The king was too pretty to look directly at for too long. His mother had told him once that royalty was always that beautiful, that’s what made him pretty, but Yugyeom had seen too many ugly kings to believe it. Maybe it was a reflection of good kings, of his kindness as a ruler. 

Maybe Yugyeom needed to get to sleep. 

“Maybe,” he started, hesitant. “Maybe someone can sit with me. In the room. Someone you trust. Maybe they can… read. Or sing. Just… something.”

The king blinked at him, shocked. He was quiet for a moment, so long that Yugyeom almost backtracked, but he didn’t know what else to ask for, what else to do. He couldn’t tell him he needed someone in the bed with him, it would sound like he needed to  _ bed someone _ to be able to sleep. 

“I’ll see what can be done,” the king said slowly. His hand finally drew away from Yugyeom’s cheek. “For now… for now, go rest if you can, alright?”

The look on his face wasn’t promising. It was too strange a request, even if it was the only real one he’d made so far. He nodded and regretted agreeing to rest instead of going back into the gardens. He already missed the way Jinyoung sounded when he laughed. 

When he was back in his room, Yugyeom managed to get two hours of fitful, interrupted rest. It wasn’t dark, which kept him awake, compounded with the fact that he was alone in the silence. He got Jisung to come in and sit and that helped, but he was very unfortunately interesting. On the other hand, Yugyeom got to learn a little about the place he now lived. 

The king had two sisters, already married off; one to a duke within the kingdom and one to a foreign prince and set to rule at his side when he ascended the throne. The castle also used to be full of courtiers and entertainment, people everywhere all the time, but when the king’s parents passed away and he rose to power, he sent many of them home. Yugyeom’s questions as to why were met with helpless shrugs. 

As evening approached, the prince gave up on his nap and wandered the halls. He told Jisung he’d like a little while alone and to his surprise, his guard bowed out and seemed to disappear. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he was still there somewhere, keeping an eye on him, but he didn’t approach again and he wasn’t near enough for Yugyeom to feel watched. It was nice that he was able to do that, melt away a little to give him some time on his own.

He didn’t know where he was going, what he might be looking for, but he wandered the castle a little. Nowhere was off limits, he found, when he stumbled into a bedroom and a maid smiled at him and informed him that it was the General’s suite with his husband. He beat a hasty retreat from that room. 

A few rooms down, he managed to find a sitting room filled with books, a small library of rows and rows of them pushed against the wall. There was, of course, a library in his own home, but he didn’t go to it often. All of the books in it were old and historical and  _ boring _ . He and Bambam had been forced into that room often enough for their studies as children that he loathed going into it as an adult. This room was smaller, cozy, with a stuffed chair that looked comfortable to sit in and a large window letting the light stream in, an oil lamp on the small table prepared for when it was too dark to see by the light of the sun. 

Yugyeom wandered along the walls, looking at the spines of the books. Most of them looked well loved, meaning that someone spent a lot of time in here. He wondered if it was Jaebeom or Youngjae, since it was so close to their room. He decided it was a personal library when he found a whole shelf of brand new books, looking completely brand new and untouched right beside the chair. He glanced over them, but then started back at the beginning of his journey by the door, looking for whatever book looked the most worn. If it was wearing out, it had to be a favorite, right? 

Eventually, he found it, and to his surprise, realised it was on a shelf of other books that looks exactly the same with different lettering. He knew just enough about a couple of other languages to realize that it was many translations of the same book. How many times had this been read in this room?

Dozens at least, and as Yugyeom chose the one in his own language, he mentally added one more time to the number. Settling in the chair, he curled up and cracked it open to the first page, set to spend the rest of the evening here until someone forced him to leave for dinner. 

He barely made it into the book, which was disappointing because it was about a prince, a lonely one, and he wanted to know if the prince found someone to help with that. He curled up in the chair and the sun streamed in behind him, warming the seat. It was quiet, but there was a sense of  _ something _ in this room that settled him enough that he dozed in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t a real nap, but it was more restful than when he lay alone in his empty guest room. 

He must have slipped into something a little more like sleep at some point. Part of him heard the door open and was aware of footsteps, but he knew Jisung was at the door, and he was in a part of the castle that would be protected. They would keep a close eye on the quarters of the general, wouldn’t they? He didn’t concern himself with waking up, letting the knowledge of not being alone lull him a little deeper under and into real sleep. 

When he woke again, Yugyeom was curled up somewhere warm. Someone had put a blanket over him. The book was out of his hands and the sun had set. When he sat up finally, rubbing at his eyes, he felt a little rested for the first time in days. (He had a bit of a crick in his neck and a cramp in his long legs, but it was a small price to pay for the weight under his eyes to lift a little.)

The blanket over him was soft, a luxurious cotton that made him feel cozy and comfortable. When he squinted into the dark, he saw the book on the small table with a blue ribbon settled between the pages to mark his place. There was a covered dish that hadn’t been there before on the corner. It took a few tries to get up - his legs were too asleep at first and it was a struggle to get them to carry his weight. Finally, they went under him and carried him to the door. 

On the other side of it, Chan leaned against the wall scribbling in a book. He looked up when the door opened and smiled brightly. “Ah! Prince. Did you sleep well?”

“Kind of,” he nodded, brow furrowing. It was odd. “How long was I in there?”

His face screwed up. “Ah… Several hours. It’s nearing midnight. I traded out with Jisungie a while ago so he could get some rest and some food was brought in for you. Did you eat it?” Yugyeom shook his head and the guard went on. “Well, the king doesn’t like food in his library, but he must have made an exception for-”

“The king?” Yugyeom parroted.

Chan blinked at him, then pointed to the room next door. “The king. This is his wing. He’s in there.”

Yugyeom’s face warmed and he looked over his shoulder. “Then- I thought- I thought this was the general’s or Youngjae’s?”

“No,” Chan assured him. “The king likes to read. There’s a bigger library in a more public wing of the castle, but this one is just the king’s favorites and things he’s planning to read. No one else goes in there much. Anyway, he doesn’t like food in there, but he had some brought in for you. Do you want to eat it in here or take it somewhere else?”

He felt a little dizzy, thrown by all of that. 

This was the king’s study. This was the king’s private study. The most well loved book in a room of his favorites must be  _ his _ favorite book and Yugyeom had just chosen it off the shelf without asking. And the person who had come in - was that Jisung checking on him or was it the king finding his fiance asleep in his private library? What did it mean that he’d had food brought for him into a room where no food was allowed?

“I’ll, uh. I’ll take it in… I’ll take it in another room,” Yugyeom finally choked out. “I’ll grab it and we can go back to my room.” His cold room. He didn’t want to go back to it, not really. Not after being in a room like that, something that had personality, that felt like someone’s home, anyone’s home, instead of the lifeless guest room that just reminded him of who had left without him. 

He beat back those thoughts and went back inside for the dish. He left the book on the table and tried not to wonder if the ribbon in the pages was an invitation to come back and find out if the prince in the story ever found someone to cure his loneliness. 

-

Chan came into his room with him and they shared the plate of food, mostly cold meats and bread that had butter melted into it when it was warm. They chatted for a little while, keeping it going after the food was gone and set aside. 

Chan liked to sing, he liked to make music. He confessed that, for him, the only part of working in the rotation with Changbin and Jisung at Yugyeom’s side was that they now were always down a man when they wrote music together - a shame, Yugyeom decided. Perhaps he could get a fourth person added in so that it was less of a wear on them. He didn’t know if that was feasible, but it was late at night and it seemed like a very good idea. 

He learned that Chan had come to the castle from far away and been accepted into the guard training early. He’d been set to take over Jaebeom’s position as Master of the Guard, but when they needed a person to oversee personal security for the king and his betrothed, he was chosen. 

“Why are you only here with me, then?” Yugyeom asked, head cocked curiously. 

Chan sighed, brushing a hand through his curls. “You’re in a whole other part of the castle. No one wants you to be alone and no one wants Jisung and Changbin working twelve hours a day at your side. Eventually, you’ll move into the family wing and you’ll be with the king and the three of us will be in charge of organizing security for you both. And anyway, the General is in that wing and he’s usually at the king’s side.”

Yugyeom hummed, giving that a moment’s thought. “I suppose so. When will I move, then? Do I get my own room?” He’d never shared a whole room with another person, and his mother had her own quarters away from her husband. He sort of hoped so. A space to make his own, to choose his furniture and sheets and arrange things would be nice. Although he would run into the same problem there as here - he would be alone. 

After a moment of thought, Chan said carefully, “I think you’ll be meant to share a bed with your husband.” Quickly, he added, “That’s the custom here, at least. You’ll have to talk to the king about what will be customary for the two of you. But- But he has his private library, and the general has a private sitting room where his cats live, the duke has a sitting room himself. I’m sure you’ll have a private room as well. You just- You may have to speak with the king if your intention is to sleep there instead of with him.”

He hadn’t really tried to interrupt. Chan spoke at the speed of light and was so hurried to be sure  he hadn’t said something wrong that Yugyeom didn’t feel like he could interrupt him. He waited until he was finished and then looked at his hands. “I don’t know yet if I want to share his bed all the time, but it would be better than sleeping alone. I really hate it. At home, I had someone assigned all the time to share a bed with me, just to help me sleep.” After a few beats of silence, he gripped his hands together tightly. “I miss it. I can’t sleep here. The most anyone touches me is the king’s fingers on my hand and it’s- It’s really not enough.”

“Maybe you should speak to the king,” Chan suggested quietly. 

Yugyeom shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t do that. Who would a king trust enough to put into his fiance’s bed?”

“He might fill the position himself-”

“ _ No _ ,” Yugyeom hissed, drawing his legs up to his chest. “No, I’m not- I don’t want to crawl into the bed of a king like a child. He’s supposed to be my husband. Not to mention, it’s going to be  _ three months _ before we’re even wed. I can’t just go sleeping with him before that. The servants already think…” He closed his eyes and let the words hang open. Chan knew what the servants thought. He spoke to them, he spoke to Jisung.

“Jisung said that was a mistake,” Chan tried. 

He nodded. 

“But no one believes that.”

He nodded again. 

There was a moment of hesitation, then a shift and the platter was moved out of the way. “Your highness, may I hug you?”

Yugyeom unfurled from the ball he had curled in and crept closer. Chan was smaller than he was - the whole castle was smaller than he was - but he wrapped him up in his arms and held him close to his chest. Yugyeom took the seconds to listen to his heartbeat and breathe in the warmth of another person. Chan didn’t move aside from smoothing a comforting hand down his back now and then. 

“Thank you,” Yugyeom mumbled. 

“I’ll do what I can,” Chan promised. “It may not be much, but I’ll do what I can.”

He curled further against the guard. “Thank you,” he repeated. 

“You’re welcome, prince.” 

Silence fell, but was broken again a few minutes later. Chan hummed softly, sang some soft song that Yugyeom didn’t know. It was slow and it lulled him down. Chan’s voice was nice. It curled around him and lowered him down into the bed. He’d slept hours just earlier, but compared to the days of sleep he’d lost, it was a drop in the bucket. Chan sang a little longer, rubbing his hand along the prince’s back when he pressed his face into the pillow to help him get some rest. 

When Yugyeom woke, the room was empty again. Silence met him. The bed was cold. But the sun was rising, meaning it was the most sleep he’d had since his brother had gone, and for that, he was grateful. 

Maybe finally, he would be able to meet with the designer and get new clothes in order. 

As the sun crawled across the sky, Yugyeom peeked out into the hall and managed to cajole Changbin into the room to help him get dressed. His clothes weren’t as elaborate as his brothers, but there were still a number of things Changbin didn’t know how to tie and clumsily fumbled with. Every aborted whine about waiting for his valets to come in to help instead prompted a chuckle from the prince, but finally, he slid his feet into shoes and asked Changbin to help guide him out to the gardens. 

It was still chilly when they got there, but it was nice. The sun was just coming up over the horizon and there was still dew resting on the flowers. Some of them had closed up for the night, like they were catching the sleep that Yugyeom had been denied. Others were already up to greet the sun. As he walked through the gardens, Changbin a respectable distance behind him. He tried to remember all of the stories that had gone with them, the ones Jinyoung had told him just the day before. 

He’d like to hear them again, soon. If there was time. 

Yugyeom lost track of time and track of himself in the maze of trees and bushes. He’d gotten much further than he and the king had gone the day before and he’d all but forgotten the quiet guard behind him. 

“Your highness,” he called softly, voice gravelly but gentle. 

Yugyeom still nearly jumped out of his own skin. He snatched his hand back from where he was testing the thorns at the base of a particularly spiky bed of flowers and yelped when he sliced his finger. Changbin darted forward, crouching beside him to inspect the red blossoming on his finger to match the soft red of the flowers that grew at the top of the plant. 

He pressed his lips together tightly as the guard produced a cloth and closed his hand around it to stop the bleeding. “Please don’t call me ‘your highness,” he sighed, squeezing tightly. “I told Seungmin and Hyunjin and they didn’t really listen, but I don’t like it.”

“What should I call you?” he asked, helping him back to his feet. Nevermind that he was nearly a foot taller. (There was something extremely amusing about having such a tiny man assigned to guard him, but Yugyeom would never point it out. Or at least not until the opportune moment for teasing.)

He shrugged, starting to meander again. “Prince? I know you can’t call me Yugyeom, not even the servants at home would do it.”

“If that’s what you prefer,” Changbin assured him. “I’ll pass it on to everybody - or, you know. Everybody who will listen. Anyway, we’re late now.”

Frowning, he spun back around, then turned his eyes skyward. “Late for what? It’s still morning.”

There was a beat, then two, then the guard prompted, “Breakfast? You haven’t eaten since you got up. It’s likely His Majesty is wondering where you are.”

“Oh.”

Shit. 

He turned, frowning at the bushes around him, then turned and eyed a path through a few trees. There were too many hedges and lattices here. Thank god for the heavy sigh Changbin heaved before he waved him along and started back out through the garden. 

When they reached the main garden again, before the terrace was even in sight, Felix was sprinting toward them. He stopped so quickly he nearly toppled over, hands flying to Changbin’s shoulders as the man caught him. “You’re in trouble,” he panted. 

“I am?” Changbin and Yugyeom asked at once. 

Felix looked between them. “Yes? His majesty is ready to tear the castle apart looking for his betrothed.”

Yugyeom’s eyes went wide and he realized abruptly what he’d done. He hadn’t even thought of it. Changbin, however, frowned and said, “I told someone where we were going? The prince asked me to show him to the gardens and I let the maid heading up to the family wing know so that she could pass the message to Chan.” They were already walking, but Yugyeom was struggling to check his pace with the short, heavy-laden guard at his side. 

“She must not have done it,” Felix replied. 

He took a hard left, leading the two of them into a room Yugyeom hadn’t been in before. Or maybe he had and had just forgotten. There was nothing necessarily memorable about the room, just a large table and chairs as well as a few more comfortable seats around the walls. Inside, the king was pacing the floor, Jaebeom stood in the corner with his arms folded and face grim, Youngjae and Woojin sitting at the seats and facing him. At least, they must have been facing him before, because every man’s head snapped up to look at him when the door opened. 

Jaebeom was the first to move, lurching forward and away from the wall to snatch Changbin by the light armor he wore and head toward the door. He halted when Yugyeom’s hand shot out between them. 

“Where did you go?” Youngjae asked before anyone could say something angry. 

It took a moment to retrieve it, but the bravado and showmanship Yugyeom used to get his way with his step father was dusted off and he took a deep breath. “To the gardens,” he replied evenly. “I looked around yesterday and explored a little. Nothing was off limits then.”

“Nothing is off limits,” Woojin assured him. “This is your home. However-”

“ _ However _ ,” the king picked up, taking two broad steps to the table and giving Yugyeom the coolest look he had since they’d arrived. “This  _ trade  _ agreement hinges on the  _ marriage  _ arrangements. If you are not here, then there is no marriage, and there is no trade. Do you understand the meaning of that?”

He pursed his lips, then pressed a hand to Jaebeom’s chest, pushing him back. He understood the look the general cast over his shoulder to his king, but he didn’t like that it took a tilt of the head for him to step away from his guard. “I  _ was _ here. I was in the garden. The garden I went through with you yesterday. I lost track of time and was late to breakfast.”

“You could have been anywhere,” Jaebeom all but snapped. “You could have-”

“Left?” Yugyeom finished. He looked to the general, then to the king. “I could have left. You think that I would have just up and left in the night?”

“You weren’t in your rooms when the valets came to wake you,” the king accused. 

“I wasn’t in my rooms at midnight either, and dinner still found me,” he shot back. He appreciated the taken aback look it startled out of him. “I worked  _ hard _ on those agreements, and I accepted your offer to marry, and I sent my family away and stayed here.  _ You _ told me I could go out walking. Where do you think I would go?”

The king didn’t reply, but the anger on his face melted into only a sour look. 

Jaebeom, however, went on, “Changbin should have informed someone before he took you where we couldn’t find.”

That reminded him of the position he’d put himself in - smack between the general and his quarry. In the corner of his eye, he saw Youngjae tense as Yugyeom turned a flat look on the man. 

“Are you suggesting you gave me a guard you can’t trust?” he asked. 

It was Jaebeom’s turn now to tense up. “No, we trust him, it’s-”

“Then if I’m gone, and my guard is gone, it stands to reason that I am with said guard, doesn’t it?”

He drew in a sharp breath. “Yes-”

Yugyeom took a step forward and used the height he had on the general to his advantage. “Good. Yes. Then perhaps, before you raise the alarm and go blaming people for things, you might check places around the castle?” No reply came immediately, which urged Yugyeom to step to the other end of the table. “If you don’t trust me, your majesty, that’s perfectly acceptable. You don’t have to. This is a marriage is meant to end a war, not warm a heart and I understand that. But make it clear what you want from me. Don’t give me the freedom to roam the castle along with the security to do it only to panic when I make use of it.”

His face was high with color, breath coming just a little faster. The room was loudly silent, pressing in on them with the weight of meaning. Two heartbeats. Four. 

“I’ll be sure to leave a note next time I want to leave my room.” The prince moved toward the door, but hesitated as he caught sight of his guard. He turned back to look at the king. “I have put a lot of faith in this kingdom. I have put a lot of faith in  _ you _ . If you can’t have faith in me, then there’s no point to any of this. As for the guards you have assigned to me.” He shifted his gaze to Jaebeom, jaw set and jutted out as he ground his teeth together. “I’ve put a lot of faith in  _ them _ . If you intent to chastise them, fire them, demote them, or reassign them, that goes through me first.”

“They’re members of the guard,” Jaebeom ground out.

“And if you wanted them to stay that way, you should have left them there. If you take them from me, I will see to it that your life is hell.” With that, he turned to the door and stormed out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on curiouscat and twitter! @6uglyguysandjae!


	5. Forget Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yugyeom takes himself prisoner. He didn't think it would be such an effective gambit. 
> 
> He also finally gets some new clothes. It's about time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that chapter summary is awful lmao. Anyway I added some more onto this chapter and barely made it in!! Unfortunately, this is gonna be the beginning of a (hopefully) short hiatus, but my dad's chemo is working, I'm on some pills that are supposed to make me less tired and stuff, and I'm gonna try so so hard to keep up posting. It may change to every other month, at best, but I'm gonna keep trying. I'm sorry everybody. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy the fake-confident gay squad

He made it through two hallways and up a flight of stairs before the last dregs of his courage vanished and he had to lean on the wall for support. 

“Your highness?” Changbin asked, moving forward and peering at him as he tried to breathe. 

He waved the guard off and turned to put his back against the cool stone. “Sorry. Just-” A pause as he took another breath and ran his hands down his face. “Just been a while since I had to snap at a king like that.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” the guard told him, shaking his head. “It was my fault, I should have been more careful.”

Yugyeom pushed away from the wall and continued on to his room. “I did. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I really don’t want to live in a place where I can’t do something as simple as go to the garden when I want to. The problem isn’t that they don’t trust you, it’s that they don’t trust me. They thought I was running out on them, and if this is going to work for anyone, the king has to trust me. He doesn’t have to trust that I’m here for the good of his kingdom or that I won’t kill him in his sleep, but he does need to trust that I’m not going to kill my guard and run away into the night every time he takes his eyes off me.”

Changbin was silent as they got back to his room, standing just outside as he went in. 

It was empty inside. The bed was made, his clothing was put away, his box of trinkets and jewelry closed and in the wardrobe. The hangings on the walls meant nothing to him, the dressings on the bed were impersonal. He might never have been in this room at all for the way it looked. 

Resisting the urge to tear the place to pieces, Yugyeom moved to the window and dragged a chair over to look out over the gardens, since there was nothing else to do. 

That day marked the first of his silent protest. 

When lunch came, Changbin peeked inside and asked if they would be going down to it. No, they wouldn’t. He would need someone to bring food up. Dinner rolled around and the guard changed, Chan this time peeking in with his brow drawn in worry. No, they wouldn’t be going down to dinner either but he was welcome to come in. Hyunjin and Seungmin came in to help him dress for bed and then left again with an odd look on their faces. 

Chan brought in sheet music and a small pitch pipe and the two of them wrote music into the night. Neither of them slept. In the morning, he swapped out with Jisung and dragged his tired body out with the music. Hyunjin and Seungmin came again to help him dress. They left. 

No, they wouldn’t be going down to breakfast. 

No, they wouldn’t be going down to lunch. 

No, they wouldn’t be going down to dinner. 

Changbin too came with music and the little pipe. He fell asleep on the prince’s bed, sitting on top of the sheets. Yugyeom woke him up when Chan came to relieve him. 

No breakfast. 

No lunch. 

In the afternoon of the third day of his self-isolation, there was a gentle knock at the door. He and Jisung looked up from the papers spread out on the bed at the door and Jisung went to open it. 

On the other side, Youngjae looked worried and sheepish. “Prince?” he asked softly, peeking around Jisung. “May I come in?”

Yugyeom shuffled the papers around and made room for another person to sit on the bed, although there was a chair not far away that he supposed the advisor could take. He’d done his best to nap a little here and there, but every time he fell asleep, the guard he was with would move to stand outside the door and he could barely stay unconscious in the emptiness of the room he’d made into a prison. 

Youngjae perched on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully. “You haven’t left your room at all in a few days, your highness.”

“I don’t like being called that,” he mumbled. 

“You still haven’t left your room in a few days.”

The prince shot him a look, then unfolded from his position on the bed and started toward the window. “No, I haven’t. You’ve all known exactly where to find me. Is that not what you wanted?”

“ _ No _ , Prince, it’s not.” The note of desperation in his voice made Yugyeom feel a little bit bad. He wondered what note on the pitch pipe would make that sound. “We were- we were worried. We don’t want you to feel like you have to be holed up in here all by yourself-”

“I’m not by myself,” Yugyeom insisted. “I have a rotation of guards and two valets that come in twice a day. I have people to bring me food and drink when I need it. What else could I  _ possibly _ need?”

Youngjae was silent for a moment. “What do you need, then?” he asked. “Tell me what you need and I swear we will try to get it.” 

Staring out at the gardens, he shrugged again. “I don’t know. If I’m missing for an hour, I’m assumed a runaway. I don’t know anyone here. I don’t have friends. I have servants and a room decorated before I got here in a part of the castle meant for guests. I may as well be alone in here as opposed to being alone anywhere else, right? No one gets in trouble if I’m in here.”

“This isn’t what he wanted.” The bed creaked. Footsteps behind him. “This isn’t what any of us wanted. We didn’t mean to make you this isolated. Do you want another room? Do you want courtiers? We’ll bring people in to spend some time with you. We could invite people from your country even, people you’d like to have here for the wedding perhaps? They could come early, spend some time with you. Prince, tell me what to do to make this better.”

Youngjae was standing right behind him, but Yugyeom kept his eyes on the garden outside. This was how it went. He put his foot down, made a stand, and then made demands. He should have thought out the demands before he got to this step. He was losing his edge as the spoiled prince. 

“I want an apology from my betrothed,” he found himself saying. Thank god he was looking out the window so no one would see the face he made when that was what came out of his mouth. “I want to be trusted not to bolt at the first opportunity. I do want courtiers, I want someone here for me to spend some time with that isn’t too busy for me, and I want-” He turned, taking a deep breath. “I want one of those pitch pipes that my guards all have and a place to work on music that isn’t the bedroom I’m in.”

Youngjae nodded quickly, clearly committing it all to memory as he repeated what Yugyeom had said under his breath. He rushed to the bed, snagging a piece of blank paper, a pen, and moving to where an inkwell sat. “Courtiers, pitch pipe, music room,” he rattled off. “We’ll have the tailor in soon too,” he promised. “So that you have new clothing before the courtiers arrive.”

“And to be trusted not to run,” Yugyeom reminded him. 

“To be trusted not to run,” Youngjae repeated.

“And an apology from the king.”

Youngjae hesitated, pen hovering over the paper. A drop of ink fell onto the page. “That’s- That’s not going to be easy.”

He’d already made the bed, now it was time to lie in it. The act meant nothing if he backed down. “Then I’ll be staying in this room.”

The advisor looked up, expression pained. “You understand why he was upset, don’t you?”

Arms crossed, the prince nodded. “I understand that he thought I ran away. The guards aren’t here to protect me, your grace. They’re here to make sure I don’t get away from him. You say I’m not a prisoner, but you assign guards to be with me at all times and you think if I’m unaccounted for that I’m gone. I’m not  _ opposed _ to being prisoner. I understand that, I understand this deal is good for all of us but that my country has betrayed yours in the past. If you can’t trust me to not flee, though, then why bother at all? Put me in a tower and be done with it if you want a captive prince.”

“That’s not what we want,” Youngjae insisted. 

“Then the king can apologize. If he wants a husband, he can treat me like a husband. Yelling at me for being in the gardens too long isn’t going to win me over.”

The advisor shifted in place, looking concerned for a few moments before he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said finally. “I’ll talk to him and see what I can do. The rest of this will be easy, though.-”

“The rest of it is meaningless if he doesn’t apologise. I’m not leaving this room until he comes here himself and talks to me.” It was a testament to his own backbone that he managed to not flinch at those words. If it was the king that found him “acceptable _ ”  _ who came in, he would crumble quickly under the weight of his judgement, but Yugyeom held out hope that it would be Jinyoung the man, the one who had shown him through the gardens, that would come and apologize. Not Jinyoung the king. He didn’t want an apology from the leader of the kingdom, he wanted it from the man who claimed he wanted to be his husband. Maybe it was some small part of him hoping he still had a chance for romance, or maybe it was Mark’s voice in his head, insisting that the marriage offer was because he liked Yugyeom as much as he wanted to procure a trade.

Youngjae swallowed hard and nodded. He waited a moment, then turned to the door. Another moment and he turned back. “Will you come to dinner, your- Prince?”

“No. I won’t come to dinner.”

Youngjae shuffled again, looked to the door, then him. “Can I bring your dinner up then? I want to see how you’ve been, outside of simply checking on you for the king.”

Part of him warmed at the thought that he wanted to see him, that someone wanted to see him that wasn’t being told to. “I’ll eat with you,” Yugyeom conceded. “In here.”

The tentative smile Youngjae gave him made that feel like it was the right call. 

By the time Youngjae came back, Yugyeom and Jisung had gotten the papers cleaned up and rearranged things to give him space to sit. He knocked politely again and beamed at the prince when the door opened, filling the room with a little bit of life. The sun was starting to set, but it felt brighter than midday when Youngjae smiled. 

Two of the staff trailed in behind him and settled covered trays on the little table Yugyeom and Jisung had cleared and arranged beside the bed and with a chair on the other side. Yugyeom sat on the bed, legs folded under him. Youngjae took the chair. the staff cleared out, including Yugyeom’s guard. 

“So you’ve been working on music?” Youngjae asked, lifting the cover from his own food and choosing a fork to poke at his meat with. 

He nodded, inspecting his plate. “With Jisung and Changbin and Chan. They’re really good. I’m still learning to organize music and stuff, but they’re showing me.”

Youngjae nodded along. “There’s a music room already, did you know? It’s Jaebeom’s but I’m certain he wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.”

Yugyeom shifted where he sat on the bed, digging the fork into a potato slowly. “I don’t think he’s very happy with me right now.”

“No one knows what to make of you right now, frankly,” Youngjae told him gently. “It seems like every time we see you, you’re a whole new person. He does like you, but you scared us all.”

He huffed. “All I did was go out to the gardens.”

There was a beat and then Youngjae reached across the small table, taking Yugyeom’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze. “You scared us. Changbin is a good guard and a good fighter. He’s smart and he’s quick and he’s fierce, but we don’t know what to expect from you. You’re bigger than he is. You don’t match your reputation. If we were wrong, and if your people were crafty, doesn’t it stand to reason that you could have hurt him and been on your way?”

Yugyeom pursed his lips, sinking down a little. He wished he were in a chair instead of on the edge of the bed. The pout would have been more effective. 

When he didn’t answer, Youngjae went on. “We want to trust you as much as you’re trusting us, but it takes time from both sides. I know you didn’t get much choice in how much trust you give us, but we’re doing our best. If you make a request, we’ll accommodate as much as we can. Is that enough for now?”

He poked at his food again, refusing to look up into Youngjae’s eyes. He didn’t want to have to look at him while he conceded the point, and he wanted to hold onto his dignity as long as he could. When he saw Youngjae’s hand twitch, like he was getting ready to make his point again, Yugyeom sighed heavily, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. It was a good thing he hadn’t put on makeup today, since he hadn’t left the room at all. “ _ Yes _ , fine. Okay. But I still want him to come and apologize. And if you tell anyone I agreed with you, I’ll deny it.”

When he peeked up, Youngjae was grinning at him. “On my honor,” he agreed. “Now, if we’re having some courtiers brought in to entertain you, it would be best if the tailor came first to clothe you, wouldn’t it?” Yugyeoms’ nod and small smile encouraged him enough to have him sitting forward a little. “Then we’ll have her brought in the morning and for tonight we’ll share the court gossip and decide who we’ll invite to stay.”

Over potatoes and roasted chicken and wine, Yugyeom learned about the courtiers that used to spend time at the castle. He learned that most of them were older, which didn’t appeal to him much at all, and that before he was crowned, the king didn’t like many of them at all. They were around largely for his parents and sisters and, given half a chance, the prince typically ran off to the gardens or his private library or even into the servant’s quarters in an attempt to flee from palace politics and gossip. He was good with the court, but he hated the court games. When his sisters were married and his parents were passed, he dismissed everyone from the estate that wasn’t essential personnel. 

He learned a little about the options he had for nobility close in age. There were about ten of them around, but Yugyeom didn’t think he could handle ten stranger vying for his attention all while he was trying to get used to a new place, a new kingdom, and a new king. They settled on three - a countess a few years older who may not have the best reputation but did have the best gossip, a duchess that employed the tailor they would be calling on and who had a similar fondness for music like Yugyeom, and one of very few courtiers who still passed through the castle now and then since they’d all been dismissed. He was a count a year younger than Yugyeom who’d grown close to some of the staff when he and his parents had come to the estate and shared the general’s fondness for cats. He came back often to see them and had always kept to himself enough that he was among the few the king didn’t mind seeing around. 

Once they’d settled on just a few people to come for Yugyeom to try and make friends with, Youngjae asked if there was anyone from his own country he’d like to ask to come and stay. Did he have any friends he’d like to spend time with before the wedding? 

Perhaps Yugyeom should have given some thought to the rumors already floating around the castle about the prince and his bedmates, but given the chance to have a friendly and familiar face nearby, he leapt at it and gave Youngjae the name of the only person outside of his direct family and staff that he wanted to see before he was married. 

-

After dinner, Youngjae invited Yugyeom down again for tea, or for music, or for  _ anything _ . He couldn’t promise the king would come and apologize and if he didn’t, would Yugyeom really stay in this room? Refusing to leave indefinitely? 

Yes. And it was a poor idea to try and wait him out. 

The sun set. The king didn’t come. 

The sun rose. Yugyeom didn’t go for breakfast. 

The sun crossed high in the sky. Yugyeom didn’t go for lunch. 

He hoped there would be reason at all for the tailor to travel all the way to the castle since it was looking like perhaps Yugyeom would not be leaving his room. 

As the sun started to wane, the same knock came that always did. Would he come down for dinner? 

Chan peeled himself away from where he was sat, cross legged on the bed bed with the prince pouring over pages of lyrics and music. In the time of his confinement, Yugyeom had gotten close to his guards. Enough that they had finally stopped calling him ‘your highness’ and he’d managed to get them all to forget propriety enough to come sit with him on the bed where they could spread out papers and work together on making something beautiful. 

“Tell them no,” Yugyeom mumbled distractedly, adding another few notes to the piece they were working on and humming the tune to make sure it was right. 

“Uh- Your highness?” Chan called, sounding strained. 

Sighing deeply, Yugyeom laid the paper down carefully as he replied, “I  _ told _ you I don’t- Oh.” 

Chan stood, holding the door open and looking wary with the king in the corridor and the general behind him. 

And here was Yugyeom, with ink on his face, no make up or jewelry to speak of, and his hair a mess from running his hands through it. Thank god he hadn’t taken off his jacket like he did most days or he’d look even worse. 

“May I come in?” the king asked, voice soft and eyes trained on Yugyeom where he sat on the bed surrounded by papers. 

“Uh. Yes. Yes, of course. Chan, can you help me?” Too many of the papers still had wet ink and they’d been working on these songs for days now. He wasn’t about to let them be ruined for anything, not even a king. 

Chan scrambled back to his side and started collecting papers, placing the ones with wet ink to the side and gathering the others all up in a stack while Yugyeom tried to help him and untangle his long legs so he could get up. 

Finally, Yugyeom was on his feet, although it hadn’t been in easy journey since one of them had fallen asleep and nearly sent him tumbling to the floor. They stared at one another for a few moments as he tried to get his hair into some semblance of order without a mirror or anything to brush it with. The king looked beautiful, because of course he did. Dark eyes and perfect dark hair and pretty smooth skin and just enough makeup to make Yugyeom feel ugly without any. 

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” the king asked finally, turning to Chan. 

Chan bowed deeply, which wasn’t the reaction he needed to give, and marched out of the room so quickly he nearly walked right into the general. Jaebeom reached past him and closed the door with more than mild amusement on his face. 

Silence stretched between them. Yugyeom looking down at his hands and realised that the ink on his fingertips was probably leaving dark streaks in his hair. Great. 

“Youngjae says I need to apologize,” he started. 

What a stupid request. He never should have made it. 

“You do,” Yugyeom agreed anyway. 

The king took a deep breath. “I don’t have to do so often. Being a king means I rarely am told that what I’m doing is wrong.”

Yugyeom swallowed hard. “You are a king to your people. You’re not  _ my _ king. And maybe the news didn’t make it this far but I’m not well known for being particularly receptive to the whims of the king.”

“I hear most things,” the king assured him. “I employ gossips in my castle very much on purpose.” 

That made him go cold for a moment. Did he know the rumor about Mark? Did he know he’d shared the bed with Jackson too? Did he know all about Yugyeom before he even came to the castle? 

He didn’t get time to think about it too deeply, because steps were coming closer and it urged him to look up. The king was crossing the room toward him. “Youngjae tells me that you want to be treated like a husband if you’re going to be my husband.”

There were feet of space behind him, plenty of room to get around and away, but the closer he drew, the more Yugyeom felt trapped. Maybe it was more to do with the look he used to pin him to the floor. “You were the one who kept making it a point,” he accused, but it came out softer than he wanted. Almost breathy. 

He was so close now that Yugyeom couldn’t help but think about the make up he wasn’t wearing. He had never seen him without it. Would he change his mind now that he could see the person he wanted to marry? Would he think he was ugly without it? 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Jinyoung’s voice was almost a whisper, like it was a secret. Like there was anyone in the room to keep the secret from. “Please don’t hide away from me here. I don’t want you as a prisoner.” 

Yugyeom wanted to ask what he wanted him for then, what was the purpose of this? He knew the answer, knew that he wanted him as a husband, but it seemed far fetched that a man like Jinyoung, beautiful and powerful and with the world at his fingertips, would choose to tie Yugyeom to him. 

“Youngjae said I scared you,” he murmured. “He said that I might have overpowered Changbin to get away.”

“I didn’t think that you overpowered Changbin to get away,” Jinyoung assured him. His hand lifted, another aborted touch before his fingers could make contact with Yugyeom’s face. “I worried that maybe you had convinced him to let you go somewhere dangerous, or to run off with you. When Felix was still in the kitchens, I was more concerned that perhaps you were both hurt. You  _ are _ royalty, Prince. My staff here is minimal. Things happen.”

Yugyeom watched him for a moment, the crown still sitting atop his head and making him look regal even as he humbled himself with explanation. “You have to learn to trust me. I stayed. Leaving would do nothing but start more fighting. Why would I make a choice like that and then change my mind?” 

“Maybe you changed your mind because of me,” he suggested. His face remained passive, the tone careful, but the words were so vulnerable that it caught Yugyeom by surprise. “Maybe you were too lonely here, or you had intended to stay to appease your brother and leave when he was gone. There are reasons to worry.” He swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a long moment to inhale patience. “But I will try. To trust you.”

For a few beats of silence, Yugyeom studied the king before him, still wearing a crown but baring himself enough that it was easy to see the man underneath it. His hand moved forward, a deliberate motion, a copy of the ones Jinyoung kept making and stopping before they were completed. He could feel the intake of breath, the tension build in Jinyoung’s shoulders when he caught his fingers. It was a nothing touch, it was barely a grasp, but Yugyeom felt like it must have tilted the king’s world a little from the look he gave him. 

Their fingers didn’t lace, just wrapped around one another’s hands while Yugyeom finally promised, “I’ll try to trust you too.”

“Will you come to dinner?” It was hard to hear such fragile words from someone with so much power. Yugyeom nodded and watched a little of the tension drip out of his broad shoulders. He waited a few beats, studying the prince, and finally went on. “I missed you. I had hoped you would come back to the library.”

His face warmed, turning away. “I will. I just had a point to make.”

“You made it well,” Jinyoung assured him. “But please don’t take yourself hostage again. I’m not used to being yelled at, but you can yell back if you need to. Just don’t disappear on me. If you ask for time alone, I won’t follow, and I won’t know something is wrong until it’s very wrong.”

“Why won’t you follow?”

He shrugged lightly. “I enjoy my alone time. For the first day, I assumed you simply liked being alone. It wasn’t uncommon when I was a prince that I would spend days talking to no one but Jaebeom.” 

Yugyeom hummed slightly, thinking that over. He hated being alone, so he couldn’t relate, but it made sense, he supposed. Jinyoung had sent all non-essential people away as soon as he could, after all. (Again, he wondered why he was the exception, but not as deeply this time. He was glad for it.)

“Are you hungry?” Jinyoung asked finally. “Dinner will be served soon. I could walk down with you.”

“I’m not dressed for dinner,” Yugyeom argued. He was still in pajamas, seeing no reason to dress if he had no reason to leave the room for the past few days. 

Jinyoung’s eyes dropped down over him slowly. There wasn’t much space between them and Yugyeom’s face burned when he realized that the loose shirt, untied at the collar, was not really decent at all. Especially if someone were to look directly down. “I suppose you’re right,” he finally said, dragging his eyes back up and making Yugyeom’s flush travel down his chest. “I’ll call in your valets to help you dress.”

“Ah, I can do it,” he assured him, moving away and ignoring how the king held onto his hand a second too long, holding him in place before he could move to the cabinet. “Chan can help me, if I choose something simple.”

“Your guards have been helping you dress?” Jinyoung asked.

Yugyeom shot him a look, shuffling through the clothing. “They’re not complicated clothes. I didn’t bring anything with too many laces. I wasn’t planning to stay, remember? And they’re nicer than many of the guards I knew from home.” He didn’t mention that he’d built his relationship with most of those guards on the back of antagonizing his step father. 

He hummed softly and Yugyeom could feel the eyes still on him as he chose his clothing. He felt the steps as his feet crossed the room. He felt the warmth of him behind him as he reached past into the wardrobe. “I like this one,” Jinyoung said softly. “Maybe you can wear it for dinner?”

Yugyeom was frozen, standing still and stiff with the king at his back. He didn’t really register what the jacket was he’d lifted. Something black and glittering with threads of silver and sewn in gems, which barely narrowed it down. He hadn’t worn it in his time here, no events warranting anything that nice having come up, but perhaps the king just like that sort of style. 

He cleared his throat, then cleared it again as he finally took the jacket and turned around. Jinyoung was still close, standing in his space and watching him with eyes crinkling with amusement. “Another time,” Yugyeom told him primly. 

It was meant to annoy him, denying a king was  _ always _ annoying and he wasn’t ready to be accomodating. To his surprise, however, the amused look grew into a smile, pretty from far away and breathtaking this close. His hand was halfway lifted by the time Yugyeom even noticed he’d caught it. “I’ll have to come up with an occasion worthy of it,” Jinyoung replied, pink lips pressing to his knuckles. “Wear what you like, Prince. I couldn’t be disappointed if I tried.”

Yugyeom was left standing in place with a red face and wide eyes, breath stolen and carried with the king as he swept from the room.

Chan slipped in behind him and gave him a queer look as he closed the door. “Prince?” he asked, brows drawing down. “Are you okay? Your face is red.”

Yugyeom’s hands flew up to his cheeks, forgetting he still had the glittering jacket in one of them. The hanger hit him in the face and he let out a yelp. Chan was across the room in an instant, taking the coat and hanging it again before he took the prince’s face in his hands and turned him to see. 

“I’m okay,” Yugyeom assured him. “It doesn’t hurt. I just - He flustered me.”

The worry melted from his guard’s features and he grinned. “Ah. Did he? That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.” Quickly, Yugyeom turned back to the closet and chose something at random, soft and pale blue and gently embellished. “Help me dress for dinner.”

When they had managed to get Yugyeom into clothes and lightly made up, hair combed free of knots and the giggles out of Chan’s system, they stepped out into the hall again and Yugyeom tried not to feel shy as the king and the general eyed him. 

He failed at that entirely when the former pushed away from the wall where he was leaning and moved to his side to hold out his hand. “I was right,” he informed him. “I am not disappointed.” 

Yugyeom’s tongue felt too heavy to move in reply, his cheeks burning under the grin that was growing the longer he was silent. He slipped his hand into the offered one despite how much he still wanted to be a brat and let himself be led to the dining hall. 

“I’m sorry, Prince,” Jaebeom mumbled, catching up to his other side. “For how I acted before.” 

He was unsure how to reply, so he didn’t. Evidently, that prompted him to go on. 

“It was uncalled for. This is your home now and it was unfair for us to assume you would flee just because you were out of your room for a few hours.” Another pause. Yugyeom waited and the general continued again. “Youngjae was furious with both of us, if it helps. I haven’t been allowed to so much as hold his hand since you refused to come down. He said that if you were going to be punished, then I should be too.” 

Yugyeom couldn’t stop the laugh that shocked out of him and he covered his mouth with his hand. The men on either side of him smiled and he could feel it like twin suns shining on his cheeks, warming them with a blush. “Thank you, General,” he said as they crossed into the dining hall. “I’m glad to come down again too. It was getting very boring.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Youngjae called, already at the table and standing beside his chair to wait. “But it’s just the same out here. I’m afraid the king is very boring himself.” 

“I resent that,” Jinyoung quipped, pulling out the chair for Yugyeom first, as though he weren’t the  _ king _ . “I’m a delight.”

“Such a delight,” Youngjae replied, rolling his eyes as Jaebeom pushed his seat in as well before he took his own. “Will you continue to be a delight when our guests arrive, or will you prove me right and be a total bore?” He looked to Yugyeom and leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s a hermit of a king. If he had his way, we’d be on skeleton staff and he would live in the library.”

“We  _ are _ on skeleton staff,” Jaebeom replied, rolling his eyes. “If we had full staff and courtiers, the prince wouldn’t have been missing. We could have just asked someone.”

“He told a maid,” Yugyeom argued.

A hand fell to his, covering it gently. “We know now. It wasn’t a slight,” the king assured him. “Just a comment.” 

Yugyeom’s lips pursed, but he nodded nonetheless. 

There was a beat of silence, stilted and unsure, but then Jaebeom cleared his throat. “I’m surprised at how long you were able to stay cooped up. Jackson gave me the impression that you struggle to sit still and indoors most days at all.”

He nodded, giving a light shrug. “Most days, yes. I haven’t been able to sleep much, though, so it’s easy to stay in one place.”

At his side, the king dragged a hand down one side of his face, swearing softly. “I forgot. I was supposed to have someone sit with you.”

Yugyeom stiffened, eyes darting to the men across from him. Youngjae’s brows shot up, waiting for the king to go on and Jaebeom eyes him curiously from across the table. “It’s not important-” he tried hurriedly, hoping to cut the conversation off. 

“No, it is important. If you need something, I will get it for you. I told you I would help and then I did nothing.” Finally, he seemed to notice his two attendants, waiting patiently for an explanation. Yugyeom expected him to explain, to air his burden for him, but he looked back to the prince with a frown. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just- If you don’t mind, maybe they can help too?” 

He hadn’t expected the offer, but at this point, Yugyeom didn’t know why. The king had been gracious at nearly every turn, kind, accommodating, and most importantly he never took anything out of his hands. Everything, every moment, every interaction, gave Yugyeom a choice. He wondered if this was part of the king’s personality or if he was doing it to woo him. (He wasn’t going to admit it was working.)

Finally, he cleared his throat and squeezed the hand in his a little tighter. He didn’t know when their palms came together, but he supposed he must be getting used to it. It wasn’t a bad thing. “I have trouble sleeping alone,” he told them, eyes trained on his plate. That was an understatement, but it was as close to true as he could get. “I asked- I asked the king if he could have someone just sit with me, sing or read or something, someone he trusts. I just sleep better when someone is around.”

The explanation was met with silence, stillness. No one in the room moved. Or at least, Yugyeom didn’t hear them move. There must have been some signal, because Chan behind him stepped up and spoke. 

“We’ve been sitting with his highness at night,” he confessed. “Not all night, just until he falls asleep and then coming back when he wakes and comes to see where we went.” This was mostly the truth, enough that there was no lie. Chan fell asleep in his room the least often, but they all certainly had fallen asleep in his bed. “The company helps him get a little rest, albeit not very much. He wakes when we leave.”

“Prince?” the king asked, tugging at his hand to draw his attention. When he had his eyes, he asked, “Would you like them to stay? You trust your guard, Jaebeom trusts them. They could stay inside the room with you while you sleep.”

That would solve the problem. There was a tension in the king’s words, in the set of his shoulders, that made him hesitate. “For how long?” he asked quietly. 

“However long you need.” 

Did he think he was asking about how long they would stay with him? Did he think that Yugyeom was concerned about what time he would leave? He took another deep breath and chewed at his lip. “I- I mean... “ Another deep breath. “I mean, will that last indefinitely or when we’re married will I trade them out and share  _ your _ bed?”

The king gripped his hand again, reached over to pull his attention back. “However long you need,” he insisted again. “But after we marry, the room they stay in will belong to both of us, and I hope you won’t have need of them when you’re in my bed.”

A smile tried to surface on Yugyeom’s lips at that and he turned a little away, a pleased flush on his cheeks and the king’s thumb brushing over his knuckles. 

“Well, now that we’ve got that cleared up,” the general said dryly, making Yugyeom’s face heat in a much less pleased fashion now that he was being reminded they weren’t  _ alone _ having this conversation. 

Youngjae slapped at his husband’s arm and turned back to the two of them. “Jimin should be here tomorrow sometime. Once she’s settled in, she’ll help get your clothes sorted out and we’ll have at least a few new things ready by the time the courtiers arrive.”

“Jimin is the tailor?” he asked as he finally turned to his food again. There were too many emotions to want to eat just now, and he was still exhausted, but he tried at least a little for show. 

“She is. Her Lady will be along shortly after, but she needs a few days to prepare. It’s just as well, though, since we need to get your clothing sorted first.” Youngjae offered another small smile and slid a look just behind Yugyeom. “And by that time Count Minho will be along as well.” 

There was a rustle and a clink and Yugyeom turned in time to see Chan beaming up at them, smile bright. His look turned to the general, hopeful, and the man sighed before he said, “Yes, you may be excused. The prince is safe with me.”

“Thank you, your grace.” He bowed deeply to each of them, repeating thanks and honorifics before he turned and bolted from the room, armor clanking. Through the door, they could hear him yelling, “Jisung! Minho is coming!” 

“What-?” Yugyeom started, looking around to the rest of the table in confusion. The general and his husband were both smiling at the closed door fondly, the king was looking at him. It seemed that every time he turned back to him, the king was looking at him. 

Jinyoung smiled, shaking his head. “You may have to share your guard’s attention when Minho arrives is all. He’s well loved.”

Minho didn’t arrive the next day, which was good. Yugyeom needed a little more time to get himself in order, he thought. Despite being shut away in his room for several days, he was still exhausted as a result of not being able to sleep much, but restless and keyed up as a result of not moving enough. Having his guards nearby and often singing quietly to themselves helped, but it wasn’t the same as having a person in his bed with him, holding him. 

He missed his home. He missed his family. He missed his things, his clothing. He didn’t have nearly enough of it here. 

Luckily, the tailor  _ did  _ arrive in the morning and Yugyeom was poked and prodded awake and into the bath before he was taken to another room to meet her. It had already been stocked inside with swaths of rich fabric and soft linens, a table set with blades and threads and needles. The woman smiled at him as Changbin brought him in, rising from her chair. If he didn’t know better, Yugyeom would think she was one of the courtiers. 

“Good morning, your Highness,” she greeted, bowly gently. “My name is Jimin. I’ll be making clothes for you.”

“Prince is enough,” he assured her, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He felt terribly overdressed for a fitting, but everything he’d brought was travel clothing or finery and he was getting bored of the things he’d brought. It was a relief that she had arrived, to say the least. 

“Alright, Prince,” she agreed, turning to take up her tape and gesturing to the small platform. “Would you mind stepping up on the dias for me? I’d like to get some measurements and ask about what you like to wear.”

Nodding, he moved to the small wooden platform and stepped up in front of the polished glass mirrors. He hadn’t had much time to do anything with his hair or much makeup and consequently looked a little ridiculous with his embroidered jacket and mostly plain face, the finely trimmed pants tucked into comfortable traveling shoes. 

“Do you mind if I take a look?” she asked, hands reaching out without waiting for his answer. Her fingers slid up the cloth on his arms, tracing the patterns. “Your kingdom deals in fine metals and gems, I see. Do you always dress like this?”

“No,” he told her. “I’m just bored of the clothes that I brought and I didn’t bring so many every day clothes. My brother picked most of the clothes we brought. He wanted to impress the king.” 

Jimin hummed and moved behind him, inspecting the material before she reached up and started to pull the jacket off of him. “Do you prefer things that are complicated or simple, then? You don’t need to impress anyone. You’ve already done that.”

Fighting back the urge to shy away at such a blunt compliment, he shrugged a little. “Simple, I suppose. I like… soft things. There’s not as many soft fabrics where we live. Most things are light and breathable unless you live in the mountains. We have to import a lot of it.” Not that they had imported many things since his mother died. 

Jimin returned, deft fingers untucking his shirt from the trousers and gathering it to his waist. He didn’t yelp, but it was a near thing. “Do you have a favorite color?”

“I- I don’t know. I like yellow. I mean- I like yellow things. I don’t think I would like to wear yellow. I like, uh.” He cleared his throat, trying not to me too nervous as she lifted the shirt to measure his long legs. “I like to wear black a lot, but I also like to wear pastels. I like to wear white too, though.”

“So you don’t have an opinion on color,” she summarized. Moving to his other side. “Are there things you  _ don’t _ like to wear?”

He felt foolish, burdensome as he said softly, “Not really?” He’d never felt so small next to someone so much shorter than him. Her critical eye trained on his body made him squirm, his stomach protest. He didn’t know if eating with the king would have made it better or worse, but he wished he’d had the benefit of the way he looked at him like something perfect before he’d come. Unfortunately, the man had been unable to make it to breakfast and Yugyeom had dined with just Youngjae for the morning meal. 

Jimin’s eyes cut up to him as she leaned into his space, wrapping her arms around him to pass the measure from one to the other and wind it around his waist. “Are you alright, Prince?” she asked carefully, continuing on with her work a little slower. 

“Yes,” he said quickly, nodding. “Yes, sorry, I’m just tired. I haven’t been measured for new clothes in a long time, and it’s strange to be with someone besides the tailor we have at home.”

Jimin hummed as she measured his chest. “Well, since we’ve established that you don’t want anything too extravagant, and you don’t have a color preference, and you don’t have anything you  _ don’t _ want, is there anything you  _ do _ want? Is there any style at all you would prefer, Prince?” 

It had to be in his head, it had to be his imagination, but it sounded terribly judgemental, like a challenge almost. He shuffled in place, taking a deep breath and trying hard not to think of what she must think of him. 

“I like long sleeves,” he said finally, tugging at the edges of the ones he had on his arms. “I mean, I like long sleeves only, but I also like  _ longer _ sleeves, to cover my hands usually. Um, and wide necks, if I can, or the ones that come up very high and stand against my neck? I like my pants to be close to my legs, too. My friend teases that my brother and I both like our pants to be too tight, but we like to dance, so it’s easier if they’re something that doesn’t get in the way. If they’re too tight, you can’t move, though, and that’s useless too.”

Jimin was still watching him, but the look on her face had changed from critical and assessing to slightly curious, head tilted. “You’re a dancer?”

He nodded, fidgeting again. “Yes. I would like some clothes I could practice in, too, please.” 

The woman hummed again, turning to the fabrics she had laid against the walls, leaned in large bolts or hung from racks. “You’re very different from what I thought you would be, Prince,” she mused. “Why don’t you choose some fabrics you like, instead so that we have a starting place?”

“What did you think?” Yugyeom asked, stepping down from the dias and shuffling around the room. He knew what she thought. He still wanted to hear it.

“I didn’t think you would be nervous,” she laughed, making notes in a ledger as she spoke. “The staff in the castle told me you were kind, though, and I trust them more than the rumor mill. If the things people said about you and your brother at parties were true, his Majesty wouldn’t have come all this way to speak for peace and his Majesty King Jinyoung wouldn’t have wanted you to stay. I just assumed you would be more… opinionated.”

It was nicer than he assumed she would have been. “Do you go to the parties to hear those things, then? Or do you hear them from your lady?”

“I am my lady’s lady,” Jimin told him, now watching him move along the fabrics and touching cloth. “Like his Grace was before he married the General. I go with her to the parties and work as a seamstress for the court because I enjoy the court and I enjoy the work.” When Yugyeom didn’t answer, she pressed on, “Does that make you uncomfortable, Prince?”

“What? That you and your Lady are together? No, it’s commonplace. Most often kept behind closed doors in the place I come from, but everyone has their affairs anyway. I’m just… thinking about doing work because you love it. My step father didn’t allow it. That was considered uncouth to him. I was not allowed a place in court affairs until he passed.”

Silence hung like the draping silks and linens around them. Jimin watched him a few moments longer. He didn’t mind it. He didn’t always feel the need to fill the silence around him. Being with a person was enough sometimes. He could listen without having to hear words. 

The woman finally stood and crossed the room, standing beside the prince and surveying the fabrics. “So what do you think? What would your highness prefer his first set of clothes made of in his new kingdom?” 

Yugyeom’s hands touched a delicately soft, powder blue silk. If it made him think of the flowers in the garden that Jinyoung had said were his favorite, no one needed to know. “I think I like this one the best.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout at me on curiouscat and twitter!! @6uglyguysandjae


	6. Call It Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yugyeom's demands are met one at a time. Mostly they're good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been so incredibly patient waiting for this chapter. I know it's been a long time and I'm doing my best to get back in the saddle again. (I even picked up this weird horrible creativity workshop book thing? It's helping but at the cost of waking up an hour early every day.) 
> 
> I know this chapter is shorter than the other ones but I really didn't want to just fluff it up with a bunch of nothing. I was happy with it where it was so I hope everyone else is too!! The next chapter is being worked on so hopefully it'll be done soon and I can post it next month!!

The first set of clothing from Jimin was made in what seemed to be record time. At least, it seemed like that to Yugyeom. He knew little of clothing and it’s making and he usually just tacked on an order with his brother’s new clothing, and almost as often he just let Bambam pick it. It wasn’t of terrible importance to him. 

By nightfall, Jimin had the new shirt and a new pair of breeches for him. Simple things, with fine fabrics. Hyunjin  _ ooh _ ed and  _ ahh _ ed over the stitching and the color and the weave and the fit, Seungmin complimented the color and the fabric and helped Yugyeom choose a jacket that would flatter it. Jimin promised more would be ready soon, but she had been told he’d been in the same handful of shirts for over a month now and wanted to give him an option sooner rather than later. 

At dinner that day, Jinyoung was distracted and flustered and it reaffirmed the confidence Yugyeom was starting to feel in dealing with his betrothed. It reminded him that a king was only a man when it came to relationships. 

By the next day, Jimin had several more shirts, soft clothes and soft colors, silky, rich, warm, light. He hadn’t known any one person could make things so quickly, but when he commented on it, Chan assured him she wasn’t working alone, but overseeing a few people to make sure that all of the garments were exactly to her specifications. The next day, the clothing was more complicated, intricate hand stitching, beading, designs and gems woven in that would have been worthy of his brother’s lavish wardrobe. 

For a few days, while he waited alone, Yugyeom found his way back to the library. Jinyoung’s library, he now knew. He took up in the comfortable chair, curling up with a blanket Hyunjin had found and reading the story about the lonely little prince, or about knights and princesses, or about dragons and war. 

Twice, Jinyoung came in to join him, peeking in and his face blooming into a bright smile when he saw him. The whiskers around his eyes made Yugyeom’s heart do wild tricks in his chest, but he ignored it and tried to go back to reading. Both times, the king slipped inside quietly and greeted him. He closed the door behind himself, looked at the shelves for a moment, and then dragged another chair to Yugyeom’s side. It was obviously less comfortable, far less cushioned and less worn. It dragged loudly across the stone floor and Yugyeom had to stop and ask if he would like to have his chair back. 

“No,” Jinyoung told him softly, taking his seat and leaning on the arm of the chair Yugyeom sat in. “I just want to sit with you.”

The prince pretended he didn’t feel his face heating at the sentiment. 

On the fourth day, Count Minho arrived with little fanfare. At least, little literal fanfare. It seemed like the entire staff was assembled, waiting for Minho’s arrival. The king and his two attendants were in the throne room waiting as they had done for Yugyeom and his brother. Yugyeom didn’t have a place among them yet. He had been offered the throne Jinyoung’s mother had sat upon, but he declined. He wasn’t royalty of this kingdom, not yet. He didn’t want the responsibility or honor of the throne until he did. At the moment, he regretted it, since he didn’t know what to do with himself. He settled with taking up one side of the room, pacing relentlessly while all three of his guards, Woojin the advisor who had been kind to him, both of his valets, and Felix the boy from the kitchens got so excited it made him nervous. Jisung was a ball of energy, which just hammered home to Yugyeom how much a good impression here mattered. Chan was awake even on his usual sleeping round, watching the door with rapt attention while Woojin held his hand in a way that made it clear no one should mention it. Yugyeom didn’t know if that was something everyone ignored on purpose or not. Even Seungmin and Hyunjin were chattering excitedly.

It was several moments of frantic pacing, Yugyeom fighting the urge to destroy the sleeves of his brand new shirt or bite his nails to the bed, before someone stood in his way and the prince nearly walked right into him. Jaebeom caught him by the shoulders before he could smash into him. 

“Are you nervous?” the general asked. 

“Does it show?” Yugyeom replied. He knew it did, but he would have been glad to hear he was wrong, even if it was a lie. 

Jaebeom gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. “Yes. But you have nothing to worry about. Minho is well loved in this castle and he won’t make demands of you or ignore you. If you ever want time alone, there are plenty in the castle who would be glad to entertain him - although he might steal one of your guards entirely.”

“Which one?” Yugyeom looked over to the three of them, all excited and on edge for the arrival. “They all look like they love him.”

He chuckled a little and nodded. “They do, but Jisung loves him a little more, I think. Or perhaps differently.”

“Oh.”

Jaebeom hummed in agreement then looked to the prince. One hand lifted, cupping his cheek and the rough hand felt so much like Jackson’s comforting touch that Yugyeom all but melted into it. “Minho is kind. I trust him more than any of the courtiers who could come to see you, even Yerin.”

Still leaning into the touch, Yugyeom nodded. He missed it, missed the casual affection of his home and the shared beds, the hugs and the laps and the cheek kisses he hadn’t had since his family had gone home. 

Perhaps Jaebeom knew that, or sensed it. Maybe it was something Jackson had told him about too, but the general slipped a little closer and wrapped his arms around Yugyeom’s shoulders. He pulled him down against his broad frame, head tucked to his shoulder and the tension melted from the prince’s shoulders as he leaned against him. He liked Jinyoung. He thought maybe he could love him one day. Nothing, though, had made Yugyeom feel so much like he could make a home here like the hug Jaebeom gave him there. His arms held him tight, he was a solid frame to lean against and for just a moment, Yugyeom felt like he was with family again. Just a little less homesick. 

The moment was broken by the grand doors opening. Jaebeom released him and stepped back, but didn’t return to Jinyoung’s side. He stayed instead with Yugyeom, a silent wall of support that made Yugyeom’s backbone feel just a little sturdier. 

Minho barely made it through the door, was hardly introduced before he was mobbed by staff. Yugyeom watched him excitedly greet each of them, clasping hands and kissing cheeks and hugging Jisung perhaps just a moment longer than propriety would allow in some circles. 

From the side of the room, tucked away where he could just observe, Yugyeom could tell a few things off the bat. One was that the Count was beautiful, with clear skin and soft hair and wide, pretty eyes and a smile that seemed to be just for each person he looked at. At the front of the room, Jinyoung and Youngjae watched with fond smiles, as did Jaebeom at his own side. He was well loved in this kingdom, it seemed, well loved in the court and castle. Yugyeom could only hope they got along. 

Just as notable was the young man that came with him. Yugyeom assumed he must be valet, not dressed like a guard or an advisor, but Chan surged forward as soon as he was away from the Count, wrapping the boy in a hug so strong he lifted him off the floor. Felix and Changbin crowded close to him for hugs. He scrunched his face and pushed as Jisung pressed a kiss to his cheek. He settled and looked fondly resigned when Hyunjin and Seungmin wrapped their arms around him and kissed his cheeks as well. 

When he’d greeted them all properly, Minho finally pushed through the little crowd and moved to stand before the king. Jisung didn’t let go of his hand, but no one seemed to mind that he moved with the count like they were one. He bowed low, smiling as he stood again and greeted, “Your Majesty.”

“Count Minho,” the king replied, smiling back just as pleasantly. 

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

Jinyoung’s smile grew wider, eyes turning to crescents and whiskers making an appearance as he looked to Yugyeom at the side of the room. “They are.”

Minho turned to look at him and the prince smiled, giving him a little wave. It wasn’t how a prince should behave, he thought. He was pretty sure, at least, but Minho didn’t seem to care too much about propriety or court etiquette and that was probably why Jinyoung liked him so much. At least one of the reasons. 

He bowed again, nearly as low as he had to the king, and greeted, “Your Highness.”

“Count Minho,” Yugyeom replied. “It’s very nice to meet you. Thank you for coming.”

Minho smiled again, an easy thing but a little shy. Not so blindingly bright as it had been for the servants who had mobbed him, but genuine. “I’m glad to be invited. I always enjoy my time at the castle. I hope you have as well.”

A little of the tension bled out of Yugyeom’s shoulders at that. “I have,” he replied. “His Majesty has shown me the gardens and promised me a music room, the general has helped me find music to dance to, and my guards have been keeping me company and helping me write my own music.”

“If I didn’t know better, I might think you liked music, Prince,” Minho chuckled. 

Yugyeom grinned back. “It is my favorite thing. I’ve also been sharing His Majesty’s library.”

Minho moved a little closer, Jisung staying at his side. “I’ll admit I’m much more interested in the music than the reading. You said you dance? Maybe we can dance together sometime while I’m here.”

Yugyeom could feel the way his eyes went wide, a smile breaking over his lips. “Can we?”

Minho laughed softly, looking up to the throne at the front of the room. “I see you really haven’t been told much about me at all. I used to dance here when I was young, with His Majesty and His Grace.”

The prince’s head snapped up to see his betrothed with red ears rubbing one temple. “Jinyoung dances?”

The red was spreading quickly to his cheeks and down his neck. 

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Youngjae asked, sounding absolutely gleeful. “I don’t suppose he’s given you the pleasure of singing for you either.”

Forgetting Minho for a moment, Yugyeom skirted around him and headed toward the front of the room. “You sing and dance and you didn’t even  _ tell _ me?”

“I would have eventually,” Jinyoung mumbled, although he looked pleased. Yugyeom couldn’t see why, maybe just because he’d been given an excuse to show off at some point. That was fine. Yugyeom wanted to hear what his singing sounded like. 

“Well, now you will for  _ sure _ ,” Yugyeom informed him. When Jinyoung didn’t look up, he moved a little closer, leaning down to see into the eyes he was angling away. “I’ll sing for you if you sing for me.”

Jinyoung’s face turned impossibly redder and he nodded  shortly, just once, then asked, “And will you dance with me when I dance?”

Normally, Jinyoung was the one to reach out to him, normally the king touched his skin, took his hand, moved into his space. Yugyeom now allowed himself the bravery to catch the hand that rested on the arm of the throne, lacing their fingers together. He crouched a little further, making sure they could look into one another’s eyes as he told him, “It would be my honor to dance with you.”

His own face felt warm, but it was an intoxicating, powerful thing to make a king blush. 

“Your Majesty,” Youngjae said softly, amusement in his soft voice. “We have business to attend to for the day.”

A noise fell from Jinyoung’s throat, irritated, but he finally pulled his gaze away from Yugyeom’s and the moment was broken. 

Yugyeom found quickly that he liked Minho very much after that. The count was more laid back than he had anticipated, but with a striking sense of humor that Yugyeom appreciated. It made him think of home, of the gentle ribbing and soft teasing of his family. . 

Moreover,  the count had no issue invading Yugyeom’s space, leaning on him or looking over his shoulder as he read or pressing in close when they were seated. Perhaps it was the devoted looks he slipped to Jisung when he was around, the adoration on his face for the guard, or perhaps it was how he did the same with Yugyeom that he did with his guards or his valets or any of those he was terribly close to. Most likely, though, it was the fact that when Yugyeom caught sight of his betrothed passing by and watching, his gaze lingered on the closeness with fondness in his eyes and approval in his smile. Not a trace of jealousy. Yes, Yugyeom thought it was this more than anything else about Minho that he liked the most. 

It was unfair maybe, that his favorite thing about Minho wasn’t even  _ about _ him, but the comfort of closeness came much easier when he knew there was no judgement or jealousy or anger. It was something he couldn’t discount the importance of, especially when he realized how afraid of it he had been. 

He should have known that it wouldn’t last. He should have known it couldn’t. Minho was not the only one invited to the castle and with each one that would come to arrive, the chances that they were going to be as kind were slimmer. 

Yerin arrived next. Yugyeom was in the throne room again with the others, again unsure of standing with the king and his attendants although Jinyoung looked pained when he refused again. Minho was on one side, a cat at his feet purring and rubbing hair all over his trousers. On his other side was Jimin, bouncing with nerves or excitement or both. 

Yugyeom had seen little of the tailor since they met the first time, but he’d seen plenty of her creations making their way into his closet. Beautiful, fitted, perfect, in an array of cloths both silky and soft, the spray of colors both light and dark. He had a whole wardrobe at home, but he didn’t think it was nearly as fine as what was growing here. 

He would never say it to his brother, but the clothing here outclassed their home by a score. 

The woman was announced with more fanfare than Minho, but less mobbing. She entered, as pretty as a doll with a smile on her face, Duchess Yerin made her greetings to the king first, then turned to where Yugyeom stood to the side. 

“Thank you for the invitation, Your Highness,” she smiled, giving him nearly the same deference as Jinyoung. 

“Thank you for coming, Duchess,” he replied, tilting his head. “Please, call me Yugyeom.”

“If that’s what the Prince prefers,” she agreed. Her eyes drifted to Yugyeom’s right, just a little behind him, and before he could think about what was happening, Jimin had taken off, launching herself at Yerin happily and sweeping her into her arms. 

Something in Yugyeom’s chest unclenched at the sight. If he had worried it was a one off that Minho was so close to those who staffed the castle, Yerin proved him wrong in an instant and the sense of security he was building in the castle. 

The day after Yerin arrived, as the three were in the gardens quizzing Yugyeom on the names of flowers he absolutely did not yet know the names of, the King approached. Yerin turned toward him, the first to hear him approaching across the courtyard and gardens with Jaebeom and Youngjae flanking him as they always did. She got to her feet to bow, followed by Minho a moment later. 

Yugyeom scrambled to his feet to pay the same respect himself, it had always been expected at home, but a hand reached out to stop him and the king told him, “Don’t bow to me, Prince.” Once they were all straightened out again, he settled his gaze on Yugyeom again. “May I steal you away? Just for a little while. I know the Duchess has just arrived, but I have… a surprise of sorts.”

“A surprise?”

The whiskers around his eyes appeared again as he smiled. “If you have a few moments you could offer.” His hand reached out in offer, waiting for Yugyeom to take it. 

Yugyeom looked to his companions on either side to give himself time to be ready for a surprise. It was strange to think that there was one. It was much too soon for anything he had asked for, he assumed, and a letter from his brother couldn’t be delivered so fast, he thought. Could it? And anyway, couldn’t that just be delivered to him? 

He finally answered in the form of his hand sliding into the king’s and he watched the smile spread wide over his face. Really, it was a blessing that no one who was here knew him all that well. Surely, they would have been able to see the way his heart skipped a beat like a well tossed stone. 

The king did not let his hand go. With his guard and advisor behind him, he held Yugyeom’s hand and headed inside and up the stairs. They were nearly to the corridor before Yugyeom even ventured a guess as to where they were going.

“The library?” he asked, recognizing the stairs. “Is it a new book?”

“A new book would hardly be worth taking you away from your new friends, Prince,” the king treased. 

Yugyeom frowned thoughtfully. “Not if the book was really, really good.” They entered the hallway where the little library was located anyway. “A new chair maybe?”

The king turned to him, brow raised as his feet stopped moving for a moment. “Do we need a new chair?”

He tried not to fidget. As his hand was still in the king’s, he didn’t think he did a good job at hiding it. “I mean, I guess not, but you always let me have the comfortable chair and you take the hard wooden one. It doesn’t even have a cushion. It wouldn’t be strange to bring in another chair, or maybe a sofa or-”

“A sofa.”

“To share?”

He tried not not to be too pleased with the way the grin spread over Jinyoung’s face again. He absolutely failed at this.

Finally, Jinyoung turned to start walking again. “It’s not in my library,” he conceded. 

True enough, when they stopped in front of the library, they turned not to it but to the door that stood across from it. 

“The painting room?” Yugyeom asked, doubtful. He’d been into it, but painting had never really been among his interests, so it was brief and some time ago. 

“My sister’s,” Jinyoung informed him, reaching out to push the door open and lead him inside. “But she is no longer in residence at this castle. She has her own rooms in her own castle with her own husband. This one is now yours.”

As he spoke, Yugyeom stared around the room with wide eyes. The paints were gone, the easels and charcoals missing, even the curtains and hangings on the walls and windows. It looked bare without the slightly cluttered art supplies from before, but in the place those had been were now music stands, sheafs of sheet music, pens with ink bottles at the ready. Along the walls were cases and stands with instruments - a mandolin, a lute, a small hand harp, a number of flutes and woodwinds Yugyeom didn’t investigate enough to identify. To one corner stood a large open space. 

“It’s still very preliminary,” Jinyoung told him as the silence started to stretch, He hadn’t even noticed it, but the older surely had. “We’ll have a piano brought in as soon as I can figure out how to get one ito the room. I don’t know if you can play any of the instruments, but I can have instructors brought in at any time if you would like to learn. The walls are barren, I know, but there are hanging ready and curtains to choose from. I thought it would be best if you were able to choose those for yourself.”

He had made his demands perhaps a week ago, a handful of days past it. It had taken Jinyoung that long to put together this room. How much of the time he had been tied up in “court business” was him simply gathering things for this room alone?

Yugyeom moved forward and ran his fingers along the table as his betrothed continued to ramble restlessly behind him. As he wandered, his fingers found the little round pipe settled on the wood. It was  heavy when he picked it up, a thin, pale blue disc of stone fixed to the surface with a music note painted on it in gold. He interrupted Jinyoung with a note on the pipe as he turned back to look at him. 

“Do you like it?” Jinyoung asked, hands folded tightly in what Yugyeom could only guess was an attempt to stop himself from fidgeting. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“But do you like it?”

He looked small. Young. Hopeful. A strange thing for a king, odd for someone with the weight of a crown on his head. Yugyeom would have thought it would be fun to have the power to make men like this bend to his whim, but he couldn’t enjoy it. 

Crossing back to him, he took Jinyoung’s hand again, lacing their fingers around the pipe pressed to his palm as he stepped in close. His voice was soft as he assured him, “Yes. I love it. Thank you, Jinyoung.”

The power he did like, the power he found went right to his head, came with the relief that rolled through his king. It crossed his mind that he might have kissed him in another world, but instead he turned back to look at the room. “This one we can share. Like we share the library. You can come and sing for me.”

He didn’t miss the breathlessness in Jinyoung’s voice when he replied, “Anything you want. It’s yours.”

\---

The next three days found Yugyeom happier than he had been in his time there. He napped in the sun with his newfound courtiers, he found that they too liked to dance and to sing and he hesitantly showed him the music he had been working on, the three of them played around with the instruments in the room and tried to decide which one to learn first, in the evenings when his companions were off with other company or he simply wanted some time for himself he crossed the hall to the library where he found himself with quiet, pleasant company. 

His favorite change over the following handful of days was when he opened the door to the library to find the comfortable chair missing, but the space not empty. In its place was a wider seat, large enough for two to sit closely, plush padding under decadent fabric. There were two small tables, one on each side, and the book Yugyeom had been working his way through slowly sat on one side, the ribbon he used as a marker in place. 

When Jinyoung joined him that evening, before dinner and after the day’s court business was finished, he peeked in first and then smiled at him as Yugyeom looked up from where his long legs were curled under him. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, entering the room and closing the door behind him gently. 

“The chair?” 

“Sofa,” Jinyoung corrected, crossing the room and taking the other half for himself. It was just big enough for the two of them to sit and not touch if they didn’t want. Jinyoung didn’t seem to care that it was big enough for that, however, because he leaned over him immediately, head tucking down onto Yugyeom’s shoulder and hand sliding out to find Yugyeom’s. 

He found he didn’t mind it being drawn away from the book when Jinyoung laced their fingers together. 

“Is this alright?” he asked, voice soft enough not to break the quiet mood that hung between them when they were in the library.

Yugyeom shifted some, moving around carefully until he could rest his cheek on the king’s hair in return and curl closer into him. “It’s alright,” he agreed.

He was asleep before he realized that Jinyoung had no crown on for their reading. He was awake before he realized that Jinyoung had never taken up a book himself. He was in bed before he realized that someone must have carried him there. 

***

It was never likely for it to be three for three. The good days couldn’t be the only ones they had, and Yugyeom wasn’t dumb enough to think that good people were the only ones in this kingdom. 

When the Countess Jihyeon arrived, older than Yugyeom and closer to the General’s age, he didn’t like her off the bat. Her fanfare was grand, her smile was false, and her greeting to the king was more than friendly. Yugyeom had never been the jealous type, but he’d never had anyone to be jealous over before. He didn’t think this was jealousy, but something struck him the wrong way about the woman before she even turned to see him. 

No one came with him to greet her excitedly like the whole host of staff for Minho or the tailor for Yerin. The cat did not stay at Minho’s feet. Yerin said nothing about her when he asked. 

“Your Highness,” she greeted, giving him the same tilt of the head she did to Minho and Yerin. 

“Please call me Yugyeom,” he told her, as he had told Minho, and Yerin, and everyone he could get away with it for. None of them did so, and he was getting used to being called “Prince” all the time. He wondered what they would call him when he was married. Would he still be Prince and nothing else?

He didn’t like the way her painted lips stretched wider. “So familiar,” she remarked. “And standing to the side like a courtesan even. One might not think you were a prince at all” He stiffened and she gave a laugh like a bell ringing in the silence of the grand hall. “Oh, so serious. I’m only teasing. I’m sure that royalty is quite different in a kingdom such as yours.”

_ What did that mean? _

“I’m sure we’ll be great friends. We’ll go for a walk and chat after dinner, hm, Yugyeom?”

He regretted giving her the opportunity to use his name already. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout at me on twitter and curiouscat! @6uglyguysandjae
> 
> If anyone wants an update on my dad, he's not getting better but the doctors are predicting that we'll have a little more time with him and my parents are trying to get him to another hospital to see what else can be done. I am choosing to look on the bright sides for this.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on twitter! @6uglyguysandjae


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